Unmasking a Superhero
by Kemurikat
Summary: Spiderman's true identity is in danger of discovery! Time is running out as he tries to cure a deadly substance injected into his body! Based on the MTV CGI Spiderman animated series. Warning: bad language & mature subject matter. -WIP-
1. Pain in the Thigh

Disclaimer:

This fanfic was inspired by the MTV Spiderman CGI-Animated Series, and (very) loosely based on the Spiderman mythos in general. Regarding character personalities, I tried to stay true to the tv series' overall feel. (crossing fingers tightly for more episodes)

Enjoy!

* * *

**Unmasking a Superhero**

-MTV Spiderman fan-fiction by Kemurikat-

* * *

**Chapter 01 - Pain in the Thigh**

"Local law enforcement units have worked valiantly over the last five days in a unified effort to end the baffling wave of crime sprees all over the city. Reports are increasing, however, that many of the officers on duty are exhausted and rumors are growing about the military 's involvement - "

The image of Alison Tomita, New York city's top reporter, blinked off an LCD screen, the remote haphazardly thrown to the floor.

In a modestly spaced second-floor room at one end of penthouse suite 821, a luxury condominium building just a block away from Empire State University, hazelnut-haired freshman Peter Parker enjoyed a cozy, naked snuggle with his fiery female companion.

"So tell me, Peter, how did you manage to be the _only_ photographer in the whole of New York to have the best pictorial of this bizarre crime wave, being worked over by our friendly neighborhood wall-crawler?"

"Wow. I don't think you even took a breath there."

"I'm serious, Parker! Some of the shots you took weren't even humanly possible! Unless...Holy Shit!" screamed Indira Daimonji in excitement, recently promoted to junior news reporter at E1, the city's most popular cable news station, thanks to Peter's remarkable contributions.

"Um...I don't like that look you're giving me, Indy."

"Confess, Peter! You're, like, Spiderman's secret sidekick, aren't you?" she said accusingly, stabbing a sharp fingernail at the young man's bare chest.

"Ow! Your nails should be classified as illegally sharp, unconcealed weapons," he said, rubbing the spot she had poked.

"And if they were any sharper, I'd rip your still-beating heart out of your chest with my feminine death-grip."

"Y'know, you really know how to sweet-talk a guy," Peter said huskily, wiggling his eyebrows and planting his face squarely between her breasts.

"Peter, you can be a pig later. I'm looking forward to it. Right now, I want an answer to my question, which you've been pathetically trying to avoid!"

Sighing, Parker reluctantly parted from the warm valley of Indy's chest and moved to the foot of the bed. He'd been dreading questions of this nature from his superhumanly curious new female acquaintance. (They've only days ago evolved from being simple friends-of-mutual-interest to casual-sex-rabbits, much to the delight of his beaming best friend and room-mate, young billionaire Harry Osborn.)

"What's the big deal, anyway? It's not a hard question. Simple yes or no?"

"I wish things were that simple, Indy," Peter said cryptically.

Indy sat up, hugged him tightly from behind and rested her chin on his left shoulder. "Is this one of those, you're sworn to secrecy not to say, things?"

"Afraid so. Besides, I believe Spiderman does a lot of good for this city. Well...he tries really hard, anyway. Wish people would cut him just a little slack, y'know?" he said sadly.

A companionable silence was shared between them, with Peter slowly caressing the soft arms embracing him. He shivered as he felt the taut points of Indy's breasts pressing into his back. Closing his eyes, he breathed in the alluring scent that was uniquely Indy's as he groan softly, leaning into her.

Noting her partner's body language, she smiled and started to tenderly kiss his neck. It was times like these Indy relished being three years Parker's senior, allowing her to boldly take the sexual initiative when the moment presented itself. Lately, making him squirm was her top priority.

"Damn, Peter, it's amazing how sensitive you are. Oh, yeah. Keep moaning like that. Makes me wanna ride you harder," she breathed hotly in his left ear, nipping it for emphasis, and grinned in evil delight when his eyes disappeared under his eyelids.

It was amazing how Indy reduced his mind and body to a happy mass of silly putty, Peter thought to himself giddily. With everything that's been happening lately, he welcomed her generous sexual affections. For five days now, he'd been functioning on virtually no sleep, his Spiderman alter-ego horrendously busy the second he slipped on his costume after his last class of the day, to just barely making it to his first class the following morning. Even with his superhuman abilities, Peter was _sure_ that he couldn't continue the nasty pace without heavy consequences.

Abruptly, his brooding was halted by his new lover's expert touch, his senses overloading, disintegrating his worries in a bliss-filled haze.

* * *

"This city's gone insane!"

"Tell me something I don't know," smiled Sgt. Agnes Reyes to her rookie partner, Ted Whittle.

"It's like anybody that ever wanted to be aspiring criminals are banding together and pouring out of the woodwork!" he added incredulously.

"And, I have to admit, if it wasn't for this Spiderman, we'd have to call in the National Guard," she said gratefully.

The rookie looked at his assigned senior officer in disbelief.

"You really believe that costumed lunatic's helping us out?"

"Watch your tongue, boy. That 'costumed lunatic' you're referring to saved my sorry ass a few weeks ago. If it wasn't for him, my brain would've been spray-painted all over Tiffany's and my twin boys would be in foster homes," she shot back.

"Oh. I'm sorry," he said meekly. He turned his head to look out the window at the darkening skyline. He wondered how busy tonight was going to be and prayed he wouldn't get shot or killed.

On cue, their radio dispatcher alerted them to a robbery in progress two blocks away from their current location.

"We have a 10-30 in progress at 85 Broad Street, five suspects, heavily armed. 10-33 reported. 10-45 mobilized. Proceed with caution."

"This is unit three, we're on our way. ETA, ten minutes," Ted responded.

Sgt. Reyes wasted no time, quickly spinning their car around in a loud screech of burning rubber.

Meanwhile, unknown to the NYPD duo, they were shadowed overhead by a streak of blue and red, swinging rapidly from shimmering strands of webbing.

* * *

Five figures in bulletproof armor carrying military issue assault rifles filled a large bag with as much cash and jewelry they could extract from the personal safe of senior executive Aaron Gould of Goldman Sachs, who occupied a prestigiously large office with a breathtaking view of the city.

"That's it, we've got an entire NYPD army headed our way," a large, stocky man announced, grinning. "You two have fun keeping the blues occupied. Sabe, Bert and I can handle Spiderman."

"I just have to sink one of these into him, Rex," a deep female voice said coolly, holding up a crossbow loaded with ten, tiny, chemical-filled darts.

"My fifty-thousand dollars says she can do it in five shots." Bert said, as the others laughed in response.

"I'll double that bet, since I can do it in three," Sabe purred back, eliciting loud whistles and whoops all around her. "Enough. Let's get moving."

Nodding curtly to each other, they all scattered to their assigned locations.

* * *

Spider-sense rang clear and loud in his head the second he clung to the 49th floor window of the Goldman Sachs building. Glancing down, Spiderman noted that a legion of NYPD officers had arrived below and were slowly surrounding the area. He promptly entered the nearest open window and soundlessly crawled along the walls near the ceiling to try and get a drop on whoever was inside.

_This place has one of the most complicated alarm systems. Not an easy thing to bypass. Probably got help from the inside.  
_

Keeping to the shadows, he surveyed the burglarized room. In the dim light, he saw the door to a large, hidden safe left wide open with money, documents and jewelry messily scattered on the floor. Upon closer inspection, he noted that only half the safe's valuable contents were taken.

_This doesn't make any sense. They do an immaculate job of breaking in...then botch up the lute?_

"Never underestimate the presence of military weaponry, Spiderman," a deep female voice roared out mockingly. She took quick aim with her crossbow and fired a dart aimed for his chest, which the target easily dodged.

_Night-vision goggles!_

Twisting and leaping away from a sudden barrage of high-powered rifle rounds to his right side, Spiderman had no time for his usual quips and sarcastic remarks aimed to purposely off-balance his opponents.

_Dammit! __They're herding me. But towards what?_

"That's it, Spiderman, a little to the left," the woman thought to herself, as she expertly shot two darts simultaneously at slightly different angles. The second found it's mark.

"OW!" Spiderman yelped, quickly pulling a small metallic dart embedded in his left thigh.

"Gotcha", the woman chuckled to herself. "Let's pack it up, boys!"

Momentarily dazed from the sharp stinging pain on his left thigh muscle, Spiderman marginally missed being hit on the head with a canister of tear gas.

"Hey! Watch where you throw your toys!" Spiderman yelled.

"Amazing. A smart-ass till the very end, aren't you?" the masked woman commented dryly, somersaulting away from a flash of webbing.

"Come on! Chopper's on it's way!" a heavily armored man shouted, running into the room with a gas-mask tightly clamped to his face.

Holding his breath, the costumed superhero resolutely went after the five 'Splinter Cell' rejects, hell-bent on questioning one of them. Perhaps they could shed some light on the recent mayhem the city was experiencing.

A military issue Blackhawk was waiting on the roof, its rotors spinning at top speed while quietly hovering a few inches from the landing pad, more than ready to leave at the slightest tap of a key.

Only two of the five armored figures remained for Spiderman to catch. The tough female with a crossbow strapped to her backpack, and a tall, bulky, artillery-clad male. Both were running as fast as they could to catch their ride. Right on their heels was their mission objective, New York's self-proclaimed costumed superhero leaping madly on all fours, trying to overtake them.

"He's within range," announced the Blackhawk copilot.

"Don't kill him. Just maim him a bit," suggested the pilot.

"Yes, sir," a man acknowledged darkly and opened fire.

Desperately seeking any available cover, Spiderman hid behind a steel air vent and watched through narrowed, angry eyes as all five masked figures settled into their Blackhawk to leave just as two NYPD helicopters fell in line behind them. Sighing, he winced and lightly rubbed the bloody wound on his left thigh, the strange dart tightly clasped in his fist.

* * *

to be continued


	2. Feeling the Effects

**Unmasking a Superhero: Chapter 02 - Feeling the Effects **

"And they guaranteed that this formula would be effective?" mumbled a man doubtfully as he examined a red-colored liquid tightly sealed inside a thick glass vial. He had impeccably neat, short, black hair and wore a very expensive, well-tailored suit.

"We should know in a few days, sir. Please take into account the unknown factor of Spiderman's metabolism."

"Fine. But I want to see results soon. I paid a lot of money to see this happen. I want that freak of nature in my grasp."

"All in good time, sir," a shapely blond reassured him and turned to leave.

"Adel."

She stopped in her tracks and turned around, looking expectantly at him.

"I'd like to meet the people responsible for...this," he said, holding the vial in front of him and lightly shaking its contents.

"Sir? I thought - "

"I've changed my mind. If this works, I'd like to personally thank them. But in case it doesn't..." a maniacal gleam seemed to appear in his eyes.

"Consider it done, sir," she said, without hesitation.

The man reclined in his posh, leather office chair with a genuinely pleasant smile on his face. "You're indispensable to me, Adel. My beautiful and deadly Ice Queen. I just thought I'd let you know that. You've only been here two years but you've shown me exceptional efficiency. And you have a coldness I find...comforting."

"You flatter me, sir, but I appreciate the compliment. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a few calls to make." She nodded to him in deference and left the room.

* * *

A hard slap on the back woke Peter Parker up so suddenly that he jerked his arms outward, knocking everything off his desk within reach. Unfortunately, he chose that particular moment to forget his augmented superhuman strength, half-embedding a few materials into solid concrete.

"Whoa! I did _not_ just see that!" exclaimed his best friend, Harry, who stared at the objects on the wall in complete amazement. "You, uh, haven't been doing Frankenstein experiments on yourself lately, have you? 'Cause, ah...that would explain a lot."

It took Peter a few moments to get his sleep-muddled brain to work. But the instant he clued in to what he'd just done - in front of Harry, no less - he was dumbstruck with shock.

_How the hell do I talk my way outta _this_ one?_

Harry regarded Peter's terrified expression and lifted an eyebrow at his buddy's miserable attempt to form words. "Don't bother. You'll hurt yourself," he said amusedly and placed a firm hand under Peter's chin, clamping his jaw shut.

"Harry, I - " Peter began as soon as his jaw could move.

"No, really. I _don't_ wanna know," he finished, walking over to the classroom door, deciding to drastically cut down his daily espresso intake. "You coming or should I get a bed delivered here?"

Sighing heavily and after briefly looking around the room, Peter grabbed his laptop bag from the floor - grateful it was spared - and sauntered after his taller, blond-haired best friend.

The duo walked in silence along the main hall of the new ESU Science building, Harry fully aware of Peter staying a few paces behind him. He tried not to think about what he'd just witnessed his best friend do, blaming it instead on the insane amount of coffee he'd consumed in the last hour.

"Hey, Pete. Get over here," he ordered sternly, crossing his arms and leaning against one of the structural columns near the double door entrance. "What the hell's up with you lately? You've barely made attendance, you've been looking like a train wreck and now you're sleeping in classrooms! If I hadn't tracked you down, you'd still be dreaming in the chem lab!"

"I...I just...haven't been sleeping well recently...with everything that's been going on..." he mumbled lamely.

"That much I know, Captain Obvious." _It's not like you and Indy keep it quiet, either._ "Seriously, Peter, when I demanded that you to get some action, man, I never meant 'to the death'! Although," he thought out loud mischievously, "what a helluva way to go."

Peter blushed deep crimson at his friend's comment. "Guess I'm overdoing it," he said, relieved he had some form of an excuse to fall on.

_These recent strings of mayhem erupting all over New York's running me ragged. I'm starting to let my crime-fighting Spidey nightlife leak into Parker's routine. But I don't know what else to do. I can't stop being Spidey, even for one night. If somethi__ng really bad happens...I'll never forgive myself._

_And that strange dart. Whatever was in it evaporated the moment I opened the container. I ran all the tests I could think of on samples of my blood, but they've all come up negative. _

"Hello? Planet Earth to Peter Parker?"

"I...spaced out again, didn't I?" he remarked guiltily.

"That's done it. I'm calling in a SWAT team to stand guard outside our suite to make sure Indira Daimonji the Nymphomaniac stays away from you."

"It's also this weird mega-crime wave the city's knee-deep in, Harry. The Daily Bugle and Empire One's got me chasing the action all over town."

"Peter, if it's money you need - "

"I don't want your money!" he exclaimed, perhaps a bit too forcefully. "I'm sorry. Dammit! I didn't - Harry? Wait, I didn't mean to..." he slowly faded, watching dejectedly as his friend continued walking away from him.

"Talk to me when you've gotten a good night's sleep. Before then, stay outta my face," Harry said loudly, without breaking a stride.

Peter clenched his fists tightly and trembled in frustration. For the first time in his life, he remotely considered wanton destruction of public property to relieve the turmoil coiled up inside him. Instead, he took a few, deep, shaky breaths and slowly walked down large stone steps to cross the main quad toward the History building for his next class.

* * *

"Petey, you don't look so good," Mary Jane Watson noticed worriedly. "You're pale...and you're burning up!" Her eyes widened at how hot her hand felt after she briefly touched his forehead.

"I'm just tired, MJ. I'll try to get some rest tonight. Promise," Peter smiled back weakly. He scribbled more lecture notes absently.

Neither one spoke for a while as their professor concluded his lesson, the final sentence of his flat tone echoing throughout the lecture hall.

"I ran into Harry earlier," she said softly. "Did you two have a fight?"

"It was my fault. I...kinda blew up in his face." He looked over at MJ who simply stared at him questioningly.

_Yeah, I know. I never lose my temper. It's dangerous, especially for me. What the heck's happening? First I'm exhausted, now I'm sick?_

"You know what? I think I'll head over to the clinic, okay? Have myself checked out. Take a few days rest or something," Peter said reassuringly as they watched the last group of students file out of the auditorium.

"Want me to come with you?" MJ offered.

"No, it's okay. You still have English Lit left. Didn't you skip last week?" Peter said. He smiled when she lightly bit her lower lip. His hand found hers and tapped it. "I'll be in my room taking a nap after I grab a note from the nurse," he said, standing up.

"Petey, you're limping," Mj added in surprise.

_Damn. That stupid dart's gonna hurt for a while. Left a nasty bruise too._

"I, uh, slammed it against something. I wasn't looking were I was going last night. Happens when I get excited during a great shot," Peter answered, silently praying it was enough to convince her. He felt a firm grip on his arm.

"I know your photojournalism career's a very important thing to you. I respect that. What I won't tolerate is watching you let your health slide. I'm heading to my last class, but after that, I'm going straight up to your room and I better see you in bed," Mj said sternly to him, her green eyes firmly locked onto his hazel-colored pair. "And we both know, I turn into a real bitch when I'm upset."

Peter lowered his gaze and nodded solemnly to her. "You can tuck me in when you come up to visit."

"Good. I'll even make that famous chicken soup your Aunt May taught me," she winked playfully, grinning when his whole face brightened. "See ya later."

He smiled and waved at Mj's retreating form.

* * *

"You sure this is wise, Robert? Meeting the client in person like this?"

"He didn't leave us much of a choice, Eric. Best we comply for now and see what happens," the older man said, running a hand through his short, grey hair. He stared off into space as he and his colleague waited in the penthouse lobby of Texas-based oil company Black Gold.

"What's bothering you?"

"Nothing bothers me, Eric, you know that," he chuckled.

"Uh-huh," was the flat reply.

"I was just thinking...what a fascinating creature this...Spiderman."

"Definitely one of the more bizarre mutants we've studied."

"Also, I find it interesting that a DNA data search of his true identity came up empty."

"Oh, no. Don't start with that conspiracy crap again. I seriously doubt he's some kind of deep-cover government experiment meant to throw our concentration off some big underground movement against national security."

"Are you making fun of me?" the older scientist said.

"Depends on your def - hey. That's the guy. Here he comes."

"Dr. Halton, I presume?" a man in an expensive suit said, smiling pleasantly at both of the well-dressed men and shaking their hands. "I'm Neil Cain."

"I'm Dr. Nelson, his assistant. We don't normally meet our sponsors, but you've been quite...persuasive."

"My pleasure gentlemen. I have a good feeling about this venture of ours."

The older scientist, Dr. Halton, cleared his throat. "We've prepared a brief presentation, if you're interested."

After the three men entered the main office, the room's double doors were closed securely. Neil Cain gestured to one of his bodyguards and the man swiftly produced a comfortable office chair for him to sit in. "Please, proceed."

After fifteen minutes, the laptop slide show ended and the two scientists allowed their benefactor to contemplate what he'd just seen.

"So, you're saying the virus is virtually undetectable?" Mr. Cain asked.

"Undetectable, except under extreme magnification with our new patented electron microscope. Unless Spiderman has access to a top secret NASA research facility, he won't have the resources to detect the substance's presence in his bloodstream," said Dr. Nelson.

"Are you suggesting Spiderman's some kind of scientist?" Mr. Cain laughed.

"Quite possible. Evidence gathered to date suggests it but its all broad speculation. We've tried to investigate his secret identity without a shred of success. The man's extremely careful. Orbital satellites, private investigators, mercenaries, paid eyewitnesses - they've all failed," said Dr. Halton, who surreptitiously noted the rolling eyes of his younger assistant.

"All that won't matter anymore. In a few days, if your little serum should fail, there won't be a Spiderman left to identify," Mr. Cain remarked ominously.

* * *

to be continued


	3. Salvage Job

**Unmasking a Superhero: Chapter 03 - Salvage Job **

The sound of glass shattering alerted security volunteer, ESU senior Aimee Stern toward Chem Lab One. An adventurous person by nature, she decided to investigate the noise by herself, leaving her radio open in case she ran into serious trouble. She was far from helpless, possessing a black belt in karate and even taught self-defense classes to ESU freshmen twice a week. Though quite adept at hand-to-hand combat, her skill was useless against high-speed bullets. She wasn't wearing a police-issue vest underneath her uniform either.

With the thrill of impending danger pounding in her veins, she carefully crept toward the lab door and gently turned the knob. It was dark inside except from the glow of a small lamp on one of the tables. Once her eyes adjusted to the dim room, they traveled over opened library science books, flaming burners and used test tubes; basically, an intricate chemistry setup in full swing. It was clear that someone was helping themselves to school property, quite possibly cooking up something totally illegal.

"Who's in here?" Aimee said with as much authority as she hoped.

"It's me, Aimee. I have a permit. Didn't mean to scare anybody," said a hoarse, familiar voice from somewhere in the room.

She quickly flipped on her flashlight and aimed it toward where the voice originated from, her billy club ready for damage. What she found was freshman Peter Parker - whom she was briefly introduced to at a fraternity party - sitting on the floor, pale and tired, leaning against the messy lab table.

"Peter? You look awful. Lemme guess, you've been trying to make the world's most potent party beverage and deeply regret taking a huge swig. Am I right?"

He laughed softly in reaction, "That's my _next_ project, actually," he said, allowing Aimee to help him stand. "I've just been wrestling with some major insomnia the last few days. Thought I'd squeeze some work in before my brain-body meltdown."

"This is heavy stuff," Aimee said, noticing a syringe partially hidden under a utility rag and a blood slide under the school's most powerful microscope. "You, uh, need any help cleaning this up?"

"I appreciate the offer, but...I don't want to be a bother," he said shyly.

"No bother," she smiled, helping him tidy up the lab while slowly making her way toward the partially hidden syringe.

"Oops," Peter said as he accidentally knocked over one of the beakers, causing Aimee to dive heroically after it. "Sorry," he apologized sheepishly.

Exhaling sharply, she carefully returned the fallen beaker to one of the cabinets. "Not a problem. You're lucky it didn't break." Her eyes briefly glanced toward the empty spot on the table where the syringe was.

Once the lab was spotless, Aimee insisted that she escorted Peter to his residence building and neither one spoke a word to each other for most of the walk to the outer edge of the ESU campus.

"Thanks for all your help, Aimee. I think I can manage from here."

"Sure. You take care of yourself. Next time, let campus security know if you're working late hours in the lab again, okay?" He nodded and smiled. "Hope your insomnia goes away soon, too," Aimee added kindly.

Dark blue eyes squinted questioningly after Peter Parker. She knew of the guy's reputation as one of the school's science geniuses, but what was he doing to himself in the lab? Drugs came to mind but the tag didn't fit. Aimee was determined to corner him at some point and ask him about the blood. She watched as the young freshman crossed the street and disappeared through the brass rotary doors of the Harrington Suites building.

* * *

Peter blinked and stared at the data analysis on his laptop screen in disbelief. His brow knotted in concern as he leaned back on the pile of pillows behind him.

_I've been poisoned. Nothing new, but I've been immune to all previous attempts before. What's so special about this one? Unless...they had samples of my blood to work with..._

The theory sent a shudder of dread up and down his spine. He was successful, at least, in determining that his body was contaminated but isolating it to formulate a cure would be impossible with the school's limited resources. He needed more powerful lab equipment, namely, a full access pass to OsCorp's finest private research facility. How in flaming hell would he manage _that_? As he deeply contemplated a possible B & E, he was unaware that his best friend sauntered into his room.

"I knew you'd still be up," said Harry unexpectedly. He watched as his best friend physically jerked in surprise and snickered at Peter's awkward scramble to grab his laptop before it hit the floor. "Catching you off guard's becoming a very entertaining habit for me."

"I...I didn't hear you come in..." Peter replied, quickly logging out and setting his laptop aside on his bedside table. He then returned to leaning on the soft pile pillows against his headboard.

"You were thinking so loudly I couldn't get any sleep." Harry said, grinning. He sat astride Peter's desk chair with his arms folded on the backrest.

"Never thought I'd live to see the day you'd miss a few classes. Even if the reason was legitimate. Sandy says your fever's the ESU record."

"Um, it scares me to think why you're on a first name basis with the school nurse," Peter teased.

"Ah. Remind me to tell you that one at some point," Harry said. He rested his chin on his folded arms, eyes narrowing slightly as he regarded Peter worriedly. "You've been acting weirder than usual, Pete, and knowing you, I find that downright disturbing. Are in you trouble? Or did the FBI kidnap you again?"

Unable to tell his best friend the real reason for his recently stranger behavior, Parker opted for part of the truth.

"I've...been helping a friend."

Noting Peter's hesitation, Harry concluded,"This 'friend' wouldn't happen to be Spiderman, would it?" He hated having to say the wretched freak's name.

"Yes," Peter said, resignedly. He had to be very careful or Harry would bolt.

Keeping his anger barely in check, Harry continued through gritted teeth, "I'll never understand what you see in that wall-crawling genetic mistake. On top of that, I really dislike the fact that whatever you're doing to help that costumed-clown out with has made you sick! Taking pictures of him is one thing but I draw the line at you being so involved with the guy!"

"Spiderman's been poisoned, Harry. If we don't help him find a cure in the next seventy-two hours...he's going to die," Peter answered evenly with underlying finality.

Taken aback by the unexpected twist, Harry stood up and paced the width of the room. Folding his arms against his chest, he gazed at Peter coldly. "And that automatically makes it _our_ problem?"

"How can you say that!" Peter exclaimed in complete shock. "It doesn't bother you at all that he's gonna _die_?"

Harry looked away stubbornly, not wanting Peter to see the turmoil in his eyes. Yes, contrary to what he'd just said, it _did_ bother him. Ever since the night he'd witnessed Spiderman desperately do everything in his power to save ESU sophomore Sally Johnson from the electrical menace called Electro, he began to seriously doubt that a ruthless killer would selflessly risk his own life to save another. It also astounded him how any living creature could withstand being exposed to that much raw electrical energy.

"Well, it's obvious enough that I've got the connections that could prove very useful. But, I'll only join your Save Spiderman Club on _one_ condition," asserted Harry, noting Peter's apprehension. "I want him to show me his face. I want to look him in the eyes and ask him once and for all, the _truth_ about my father's death."

Peter was completely thunderstruck. It frightened him to see the determined stare in his best friend's eyes. He took a calming breath and clenched his fists.

"That's a very dangerous condition...for both of you," Peter said slowly. "Spiderman's got a lot of enemies, Harry. If word gets out that you know his _real_ identity, they'll use you as bait to get to him."

"A risk I'm willing to take. Offer's nonnegotiable. I think it makes me and the freak-boy even, given the circumstances...as fucked up as they are."

"I'll pass on the message to him," Peter said despondently. "He'll need full access to Mediadyne Laboratories."

"Done. I'll make calls first thing in the morning. I take it he'll prefer the late shift? I can get them to isolate the entire area for the next two nights."

"Thanks. That way, it's quiet. It'll help him concentrate on what he has to do," Peter said, almost whispering the last few words. "I-I better get some rest."

"You do that. And turn off that laptop or I'll have to confiscate it," Harry said, attempting to lighten the mood. The heavy gloom that surrounded Peter at the moment was bothering him. "Hey, are those...little cameras...on your pajamas?"

"Huh?" Peter said, looking down and blushed. "Oh. Yeah. A gift from Indy."

"Cute," Harry said, lifting an eyebrow and a corner of his mouth.

The silly expression on Harry's face was enough to lessen the tension. Soon, both friends were clutching their stomachs, shaking with laughter.

* * *

It was taking all of Harry Osborn's willpower not to tell Mj what he and Peter had discussed last night. There were a number of quick, heated arguments about it, in fact. Both men, at least, agreed that Mary Jane was a large part of what held the trio together since they met each other in grade school. Mj had previously dated Harry - with miraculously no hard feelings whatsoever after the breakup - and who now felt a deeper attraction toward Peter, who ironically, had loved her since childhood.

Harry, being the helpful best friend, currently did everything in his power to pair them up. (Mostly compelled by the fact that she had a bizarre thing for Spiderman that he was trying to derail at all costs!)

"Peter's gonna kill me, but I can't keep this from Mj. This is too big. If anything ever happened to either Peter or me, who'd tell the story to the police? Then again, I don't think the police would believe her," Harry said aloud to himself, pacing the living room of his expensive looking suite.

He stopped and looked at an ornate clock on the wall in a corner of the room.

_Mediadyne's research wing's deserted now. Spiderman should have no trouble getting inside. _

More pacing.

_Fuck this! I should be there, ripping that fucking mask off his ungrateful face! _

A soft knock on the door and a familiar female voice dragged him out of his mental tantrum.

"Harry? I know you're in there." Mj opened the door and took a peek. "Looks like you're wearing a large hole in the floor," she said with a concerned face as she slipped in, closing the door. With her arms tightly crossed against her chest, she tilted her head and asked, "Did you and Peter have another fight?"

"We fight, big deal, it's what best friends do. You'll be pleased to know that Peter and I have long since kissed and made up. Besides, who can ever stay mad at that adorable mug of his? He gave me his puppy-face!"

"Okay, Harry. Spill it. You tend to ramble when you're hiding something. Believe me, I know you more than you think," Mj smirked.

"Ya don't say," Harry replied dryly.

"Out with it."

"Can't. I'm sworn to secrecy. Peter made me take a blood oath. I'll be cursed or killed if I tell you."

"Bullshit. Tell me. Now."

A few moments of staring at Mj's beautiful, green, unwavering glare and the great Harry Osborn conceded with a soft sigh of defeat. "Spiderman's been poisoned. Peter's with him at the Mediadyne Lab finding a cure."

Luckily, the sofa was right behind her when Mj's legs gave out. She sat in shock, staring wide-eyed at Harry. "Wait. Isn't Mediadyne Laboratories one of your father's companies?"

"Yes. Spiderman has two nights to use every piece of equipment in that lab to find himself a cure."

"Two nights?"

"That's...all the time he has left," Harry said slowly.

Mj gasped in horror.

"That's why Peter's been acting, well, weirder than usual. He's been helping Spiderman find a cure, _and_ running around New York snapping photos for The Bugle _and_ filming video for E1. I'm surprised he didn't have a breakdown sooner."

"Oh, Peter..."

"He'll be fine. He's a genius, remember? If anyone can find a cure for Spiderman, Peter can." _Besides...I can't learn the truth about my father's death from a costumed corpse._

Mj had the strangest look on her face. "You're not telling me something. You're not exactly a person who'd jump to save Spiderman. Ever."

"Oh. Uh...you're right. I gave an ultimatum for the use of Mediadyne. I help save Spiderman's life, he tells me what _really_ happened between him and my father. Without his mask."

It was the silence in the room that unnerved Harry. He fully expected Mj to instantly hurl him an outraged, womanly rant about why he'd done something so blatantly despicable. Instead, the suite was dead silent.

"Take me to Mediadyne," Mj said clearly, standing up suddenly and glaring at him.

"W-What?"

* * *

Peter's vision went blurry for a few moments, as he shook his head and stared blearily down the length of the massive laboratory.

"Not a poison but a virus. An extremely potent and complex one," he said to the room tiredly. "Have to retrace my steps..."

He resumed rapidly clicking away on a school laptop he'd smuggled with him, unaware that behind him, two people had quietly entered using a small, hidden emergency elevator from the opposite end of the room.

"Hello, Spiderman."

Peter's spine and stomach both tingled and twisted with the very unpleasant feeling of a near panic attack as he roughly pulled his mask back onto his face. Luckily, his back was facing both of them.

"Why is she here?" Spiderman declared angrily. "This doesn't concern her!"

"I - "

"How can you say that!" Mj screamed in reply, her voice cracking with emotion.

The instant Peter turned around, he realized it was a grave mistake. Mj's eyes were bloodshot, her cheeks streaked with tears and she was trembling badly. Seeing such anguish on the face of the woman Peter loved so deeply nearly ended him where he stood.

Harry had no idea he could move so fast. He miraculously appeared by Spiderman's side as soon as he began to fall forward, guiding him down slowly to lie on the cold stone floor.

Mj had magically produced a blanket from somewhere, covering Spiderman's body with it and using her backpack to support his head.

"Hey," Harry needled, patting Spiderman's masked face. "Stay awake. You're not allowed to die till I've gotten my answers."

"Here," said Mj softly, momentarily lifting the bottom half of his mask to give Spiderman a drink of bottled water. "You'll find a cure and get passed this. I know it," she added shakily, more to hear it for herself than anything else.

"Room's still spinning but I'm fine. Almost done. I think. Still need to confirm a few more tests..." Spiderman said weakly.

Two pairs of worried eyes exchanged glances.

"Maybe he's delirious?" Harry offered.

"I said I'm fine, Ha - " [Coughs] _That was close!__ I'm starting to get too chummy. Running out of time. Can't let the bad guys win. I won't die like this!_

"Wait. Stay down for just a few more minutes," Mj implored.

"Can't. Not yet. I'm close to a cure," Spiderman said, sitting up. "Besides, I'll rest plenty once I'm done. I have absolutely _no_ ambition of visiting the hereafter till _way_ after I've retired my costume, then settled down and raised a family or something first."

There was a smothered choking noise followed by a small gasp.

"What?" Spiderman inquired, sounding offended. He stood unassisted and returned to the calculations on his laptop screen. "Sure, I wear a skintight costume, shoot webbing from my wrists and crawl along buildings like a spider, but that doesn't mean I'm too far gone from any normal, red-blooded human male!"

"Uhm...the bit about settling down and raising a family kinda hit us both from left field there," Harry said dryly.

"Y-You want a _family_?" Mj repeated dazedly.

"Oh, great, Web-head! Now look what you've done. You've jump-started Mj's female ideologies," Harry complained.

Spiderman bristled but chose to say nothing. Mj however, told Harry exactly what she thought about his callous comment, with some impressive words both males had never heard strung together before.

Embarrassed and apologetic, Harry noticed Spiderman's posture clearly indicated that he was desperately trying not to laugh.

"Look, Mj, I'm sorry. We're all a little edgy right now..." Harry began.

"Hey, it's okay. I didn't mean to sound so...harsh either," she said meekly.

"Harsh, huh? I'm curious to know where you learned to cuss like that. Zero on the lady scale but I'm giving you a ten for creativity," Harry chuckled, dodging a punch from the grinning redhead.

Mj turned and walked toward the cluttered lab table.

"Are you sure we can't help you with anything? I know neither Harry or I are scientifically inclined, but if you tell us what to do..." Mj asked.

"I appreciate the offer, actually," Spiderman said gratefully.

As he gave the duo something useful to do, an air duct grate was carefully replaced when a small figure crept into the lab, concealed behind large supply cabinets.

Peter's spider-sense chimed.

"There's someone else here," Spiderman whispered sharply. "Quick, both of you, hide!" He watched Harry pull Mj quickly into a empty garment locker.

The intruder surveyed the area of the lab where the electron microscope was located and moved quietly to one of the computer workstations.

"Been a while, Talon. How's your leg?"

The identified intruder, totally startled, shot a laser from her headgear toward the source of the voice in defense.

"What're _you_ doing here? Now I know ya gotta be psychic," Talon exclaimed irritably, looking up at Spiderman stuck to the ceiling.

"A six-sense to be precise. I draw the line at remote-viewing."

"Listen, Spandex. I'm only here to pick up some info then I'll be struttin' my sexy self outta here. This is personal, so back off. I ain't here to steal. For once."

Curiosity piqued, Spiderman jumped down to get a better look at what the notorious cat-burglar was up to. Standing respectfully behind her, it appeared like she was trying to hack into encrypted data files without much success.

"Dammit! They're using the new Helix scrambler. Shit!" Talon banged the workstation desk in frustration.

"Um, may I try?" Spiderman suggested.

Talon removed her goggles and lifted a disbelieving eyebrow at her costumed companion. "You, helping _me_? Ya must think I'm stupid or something' cause why the fuck would you go and do that?"

"That's right, Cheyenne. Why the fuck did you go and _leave_ me like that!"

Both the professional cat-burglar and Spiderman stared wide-eyed at a suddenly visible, smoldering-eyed, Harry Osborn.

"Harry." Cheyenne's olive skin went several shades paler.

"If this is your deep, dark, scary secret, forgive me if I don't appear shocked."

Several tense moments passed as Spiderman and Mj witnessed the soundless exchange of emotion between Harry and Cheyenne.

"Harry, I...I know ya hate me right now, but whether you believe me or not, I really missed you, y'know," Cheyenne said placidly. "Weird thing is...I never had that before. Actually _missing_ somebody. But I did. I missed _you._ That's when I realized...I felt more strongly about you than I thought. There's never been anything in my life worth missing. Except you."

She turned and glared at Spiderman. "It's all _your_ fucking fault, you know. That soul-searching crap you bothered me with that night...guess some of it sunk home."

"Uhm...I hate to ruin this little reunion, Harry, but Spiderman's clock's ticking?" Mj said, emphasizing her last few words with a movement of her eyes.

"What does that mean?" said Cheyenne inquisitively.

"Nothing. Which files do you need decrypted?" Spiderman said quickly.

"Yo. Superhero. She can wait. I think the matter of your impending _death_ holds more of a priority," Harry announced, receiving a look of shock from Cheyenne. "Yeah. The jerk went and got himself contaminated by some killer virus. He's got less than," he glanced at his watch, "thirty-five hours before he kicks the bucket. But he and I have some unfinished business I'm _eagerly_ waiting to resolve."

"Harry gave Spiderman access to Mediadyne laboratories on the condition that Harry confronts Spiderman about his father..._without_ his mask." Mj sighed resignedly. "Sorry, guys, didn't feel like beating around the bush."

"As long as you all understand that the knowledge of my soon-to-be-not-so-secret-identity's confined to only Harry here," Spiderman said sternly. "Sorry, Mj. I can't put you in danger. For any reason."

"Fine. Have it your way. I'll just have to torture Harry then. He's a pushover when it comes to keeping secrets."

"Hey! I resent that!" Harry remarked, shooting daggers at Mj. Cheyenne giggled.

"I'm starting to get jealous here," Cheyenne teased but sensed a heavy gloom surrounding Spiderman. "Hey, y'know I'm a bit of a scientist myself. Maybe we can help each other out? Lemme download the files I need and you can decrypt them after we find you a cure. Whaddya say?" She extended her hand.

Spiderman stared at Cheyenne's outstretched hand for a few moments, then simply nodded and shook it.

"We gotta hurry. We've got less than two hours before this lab fills up with unwanted company," Harry reminded them and rushed with Mj to resume whatever duties Spiderman had assigned to them earlier.

About half an hour before the lab was occupied by its usual staff, Cheyenne stumbled upon an ingenious chemical equation.

"Never thought about doing it that way. This'll work. This is really going to work!" Spiderman said excitedly, swaying to the left.

"Spandex is down for the count," Cheyenne said, putting her customized goggles back on and switching to heat vision. "Uh-oh. We got us an early bird."

"Our cue to leave," Harry said, firmly wrapping his arms around Spiderman's chest to keep him standing. "Mj, you grab the laptop. Yen. Keycard, front pocket, right side. My right." Harry said, groaning softly when Cheyenne's fingers deliberately groped a very sensitive part of his anatomy. He then shifted Spiderman's unconscious form so he could carry him over his shoulder. He was surprised when the man wasn't heavy at all. In fact, he almost weighed just as much as...

The door to the lab's emergency exit hissed shut as the first of many Mediadyne lab workers filed into the room.

* * *

to be continued


	4. Never Say Die

**Unmasking a Superhero: Chapter 04 - Never Say Die **

"Harry, we can take him to my place. I got a home lab we can use. I'm pretty sure I got all the ingredients we need," Cheyenne said, looking at Harry sincerely.

"Lead the way."

"I think we should hurry," Mj said urgently. "His breathing's getting shallow." She was seated in the back of the car behind Cheyenne with Spiderman's head on her lap, her left hand palm down on his chest while her right hand was stroking his masked face.

"Don't worry, honey, he's got more lives than a cat. He'll pull through," Cheyenne said, making a right at the next set of lights.

They made their way in record time to an exclusive apartment complex in one of the most expensive areas in the city. They even had their own elevator from the underground parking area straight to the penthouse.

Harry deposited Spiderman on one of the leather couches in the spacious living room. Mj went about getting water and some bedding. Cheyenne grabbed a TV remote, pushed a specific button combination and Harry watched in amazement as her bar transformed itself into a sophisticated laboratory.

"I'm more of a mechanical engineer than a biochemist, but I like stayin' informed in all areas of scientific study. I figure all the trivia in my head could come in handy one day," Cheyenne said, consulting the laptop Spiderman used to store the formula they came up with for a working vaccine. When she saw the label 'Property of ESU,' she cocked an eyebrow in speculation.

"So? Got any other deep, dark secrets you'd like to share with me?" Harry asked, leaning against her lab table with his arms folded.

"Soon as we get Spandex all cured, I promise that we're both gonna spend some _exceptional_ quality time together." She turned to face him, her expression serious and apologetic. "I was plannin' on trackin' you down while I was back in town. I needed to come clean with you...even if you didn't want me back," Cheyenne said sadly, looking down at the floor.

"I entertained the idea. After all, you dumped me over the phone without any clear explanation." He lifted her head up with both hands. "What angered me most of all was that I never got to tell you - "

A crash and a low thud interrupted them.

"Guess who's awake," Cheyenne snickered, watching Mj rush to Spiderman's side and rolled her eyes. "Tender moment's gotta wait, honey, Spandex cramps my style."

Harry chuckled in agreement.

Vision slightly blurry, Spiderman forced himself up using what little strength he had. "Where - ?" he said, looking around in confusion.

"We're in Cheyenne's penthouse. Her bar doubles as a lab. It's pretty amazing. She's finishing up what you started back at Mediadyne," Mj said reassuringly. "You really need to lie down."

"Mj's right. You sit those tight buns back down on that couch and let mama Cheyenne finish cooking up your recipe here."

"You heard the lady, Spiderman. Unless you prefer I tie you down?" Harry said snappily. "Or maybe you _do_ have a death wish."

Sitting back down in a boneless mass on the couch, Spiderman wrapped the warm blanket around him tightly. His entire body went through alternating bouts of hot and cold flashes that made eventually him nauseous. He started trembling uncontrollably. "N-Never thought i-it would come to t-this."

Everyone in the room snapped up to listen.

"A-Always guessed I'd go out in a b-blaze of glory," Spiderman continued, chuckling slightly. "Well...at least I'm n-not alone..."

A resounding slap was heard, making Harry and Cheyenne wince.

"Don't you _dare_ give up! You hear me? I'll kill you myself if you say one more word like that!" Mj threatened forcefully. "Has anyone seen Peter?" she asked, abruptly changing gears. "Wasn't he supposed to come help us?"

Spiderman started chuckling irrepressibly.

"I tried calling him several times. No answer. I'm a little worried myself," Harry remarked.

"You've reached Peter Parker, he can't come to the phone right now," Spiderman snickered loudly.

"Spandex has left the building," Cheyenne commented.

"Should we knock him out? I'll gladly do the honors," Harry volunteered hopefully, cracking his knuckles.

"Cut it out, you guys! He's just freaked out. Wouldn't any of us be in his situation?" Mj admonished.

"Hell, I'd definitely go insane if I wore his outfit," Cheyenne muttered softly, evoking a spurt of laughter from Harry.

"It's okay, Mj..." Spiderman said quietly, gripping her hand to stop her from further scolding them. "They're scared too. We all have our own way of dealing. Let them blow it off. Besides, I like watching the two of them together. They make a good pair."

"Peter didn't think so. He couldn't trust Cheyenne for some reason. He acted all rude and weird whenever she was around us," Mj said, then gasped. "He knew! Peter must've known that she was a cat-burglar!" A puzzled expression flooded her face. "He thought that would bother Harry?"

"Wouldn't it? Hasn't he been through enough? Finding out that the love of his life enjoys being a career criminal, doesn't exactly add up to a stable relationship." He shifted his position on the couch, turning his head to look out the suite's many large floor to ceiling windows and muttered, "I just...want him to be happy."

"You..."

"All done!" Cheyenne declared and strolled over to where Mj sat. "Can ya get the guy to roll a sleeve up?"

After an hour of having been injected with the prototype vaccine, a blood sample was taken and Cheyenne studied it with Spiderman when he insisted that he was strong enough to stand. Unfortunately, it wasn't the cure they had hoped for, but it allowed the man to gain some strength.

"Listen everyone, thank you for all your help, but I should go."

"No. We had a deal and you're _not_ weaseling out of it," Harry refuted.

"I took your offer, I agreed to your terms and I gave you my word. I would _never_ break that."

"Right. Sorry, Spiderman, but I'm not letting you out of my sight."

"You can't keep me here. We all have lives of our own, so I suggest we get back to them."

"I agree with Harry," Cheyenne said, surprising all of them. "You're not leaving my condo till we get that virus completely outta your system. I'm not having your dead body on my conscience - which I do _have_, by the way. It just doesn't get out much."

"Your male macho bullshit isn't winning me either. I'm pretty sure I could tackle you back to that leather couch without even breaking a sweat," Mj stated confidently.

Gulping, Spiderman gazed carefully at each of their faces. Mj was imploring him, Cheyenne genuinely wanted to help and Harry even seemed a little sympathetic. _Lovely. The complications I get myself into. Story of my screwed-up life. _Sighing loudly and bowing his head, he conceded reluctantly to his three benefactors.

"Fine, I'm staying. But, uhm...I didn't exactly pack an overnight bag. And I hope you all know that this whole idea's _really_ awkward."

* * *

"I look stupid," Spiderman muttered as he exited Cheyenne's immense bathroom wearing one of her late father's many spare, custom-made pajamas. And, as ridiculous as it was, the overall black color wasn't clashing too badly with his mask.

Her late father, Cheyenne explained with a wry laugh, had always preferred the finest silk and he spent a lot of money finding the best suppliers. When pressed for more information about her childhood, she swiftly clammed up. Despite that uncomfortable moment in their conversation earlier, Cheyenne was a great hostess and even offered the use of her state-of-the-art washing machine to launder the rest of his costume.

"Come on out here so we can see you," Mj called out with a grin.

"I'd rather not," Spiderman said from behind a wall.

"Don't be a wuss! Will ya get your ass out here, already?" Harry warned.

Timidly, Spiderman materialized from behind his hiding place.

Harry's eyebrows lifted slightly, then he toppled over on the couch and howled with laughter. "Y-you look like...one of those Mexican wrestlers...or-or a perverted giggolo!" He clutched at his aching stomach as it started to cramp.

However, Harry's heckling was lost to the women whose minds had a totally different interpretation of what they saw. Cheyenne licked her lips suggestively and smiled, while Mj's mouth went partly open. Despite the odd ensemble he wore, the female duo staring at him unquestionably approved of his appearance. It didn't help that the pajama top had no buttons, leaving his tightly muscled chest exposed along with a generous amount of abdomen from the low waistband of his pants.

Cheyenne caught a reprimanding look from Harry. "Sorry, baby. Since the day I first met Arachno-man here, I've been wondering what was underneath all that nasty spandex. Now I _know_."

"Wow, Spidey. Thanks for the enlightenment," Mj said, still staring dreamily.

"Down ladies," Harry said, chuckling.

Blushing furiously underneath his mask, Spiderman quickly crossed his arms to close the open shirt, sat shyly beside Mj on the couch and grabbed a blanket, wrapping it around himself tightly.

"Are you alright?" Mj asked.

"Just a little cold. The hot shower helped a lot, though. Love the floor-to-ceiling, variable-setting water jets."

"I hear ya. After a hard workout or a nighta challenging raids, my shower's been a lifesaver," Cheyenne said cheekily.

"Not to mention a great sex aid when the bed gets sticky," Harry supplied.

"Something I _didn't_ need to hear," Spiderman quipped.

"Hey, isn't that...?" Mj said, pausing her channel hopping.

"This is Indira Daimonji reporting live from Times Square, where the band that took the music world by storm, Dingoes Ate My Baby, will take the stage. As you can see, there's an overwhelming fan turnout in response to the repeated promise in their pre-tour campaign of the most spectacular pyrotechnical effects ever produced for a live performance..."

"Isn't she great?" Spiderman gushed, making everyone's heads turn toward him in the living room with mixed expressions. "What? Can't a guy dish out a compliment anymore?"

"Peter should be watching this with us. Why hasn't he called?" Mj said worriedly.

"He's probably over at Indy's place. But it is kinda rude of him not to let us know what he's been up to. Hey, Web-head, where'd you send our boy off to anyway? Better not be on something dangerous," Harry inquired.

"I was planning to check up on him, actually, before you all decided to _ground_ me. Last time I spoke to him, his bosses at E1 wanted him to cover some major event. He could be in that crowd right now, wandering around taking video. Isn't he supposed to be crazy about that band?" Spiderman stated.

"Obsessed would be a better term. I have a distant cousin who manages the band and I brought back a CD with me when I got back from my trip to California in senior high. The only other thing I've ever seen Peter get overly excited about is science," Harry supplied.

"The word 'obsessed' sounds a little harsh," Spiderman groused.

"For the record, Web-slinger, Peter and I've been buds since freshman high. Pete's basically the little brother I never had," Harry remarked. "He's the only one I can trust to tell me stuff straight up. No sugar-coating, no dancing around the issue. His friendship and opinion matter a _lot_ to me." His face went serious for a moment. "And if you _ever_ tell him I got all mushy about him, you can kiss my ass before I get Cheyenne here to beat the shit outta you," Harry said, grinning when she smacked his arm loudly.

"Honey, I'm your girlfriend, not your guard dog! Fight your own battles, girly-man," Cheyenne retaliated.

As Harry and Cheyenne continued to exchanged crude comments about one another, Mj sat quietly, observing Spiderman's every movement.

From the large, wall-mounted LCD screen, the audience's cheering grew louder as a guitar riff signaled the band's cue to set foot onstage.

The roaring noise from the assembled legions rose to a nearly deafening crescendo as four energetic young men played the concert of their lives. Meanwhile, the 'missing' Peter Parker focused all his willpower on containing his exhilaration as he watched the broadcast. Being wrapped in a blanket with his face hidden under the mask of his alter-ego Spiderman, Peter concealed most of his excited finger-tapping with lip-biting, his bobbing slightly to the music.

"I didn't know you liked those guys," Mj noticed with a giggle.

"They're pretty catchy. Great stuff."

"MTV review of the century. Says a lot about Spidey's age range. I'm guessing...fifty," Harry snickered.

"Am not! I'm _decades_ away from fifty!" Spiderman blurted out. _Dammit!_

"With a body like that? No way in hell. I saw the swagger, the man's in his prime. I'm guessing more around...thirty," Cheyenne joined in, narrowing her eyes.

"That sounds about right," Spiderman chuckled, hoping to throw them off.

"I bet a hundred dollars he's closer to nineteen. But only Harry can confirm that," Mj said confidently with a wicked little smile that sent jolts of alarm throughout Spiderman's nervous system.

"You're on. I'm not thrilled to take your hard-earned cash, but it's to prove an important point after all," Harry stated.

"Honestly, Harry, I'm not worried. I know I'm right about this one, so you owe me meals at the restaurants of my choice for an entire year after you meet Spiderman, _unmasked_, face to face," Mj said with an imperial air.

Spiderman noted a slightly bitter tone to her voice.

Everyone in the room stared at Mj wondering if she lost her mind.

"Mj, you didn't sneak into Spidey's room last night to unmask him, did you? That's _my_ job, y'know," Harry warned.

"Uh, just for everyone's information, it's _impossible_ for anyone to 'sneak up' on me. My spider-sense security system works twenty-four/seven, even when I sleep," Spiderman supplied.

"Oh, well, that spoils the fun," Cheyenne sighed, who winked at Spidey and blew him a kiss.

Before anyone gathered in the room could comment on her gesture, loud screams erupted, drowning out the music from the live-broadcast performance.

"Indira Daimonji from E1 at the scene of some kind of explosion from backstage! It's pandemonium in Times Square as everyone here stampedes - "

"I have to get there! All those people - uhn," Spidey groaned valiantly, standing too quickly and reeled from a dizzy spell.

Appearing from another room of the suite, Cheyenne tossed him the rest of his costume. "You're not getting there on your own steam, so I'm giving you a lift."

"No! He's still too weak," Mj implored.

"Spiderman _knows_ that! Can you honestly stand there an tell me he's gonna just _stay_ here while all those people'r gettin' hurt?" Cheyenne snapped.

The trio bickered with each other as Spiderman snuck out to change into his costume. When went silent when he reappeared and strode purposefully across the living room.

"I'm ready." Their eyes followed him when he approached the the door and placed his hand on the latch. "We need to leave now if we want to help."

* * *

to be continued

* * *

**Author's Note:**

My absolute gratitude to everyone who has reviewed, read and patiently followed this story from the beginning! I know I'm extremely slow with updates-understatement, I know-but rest assured I'm determined to finish this story! Sincerely, Kemurikat


	5. Valuable Sidekicks

**Unmasking a Superhero: Chapter 05 - Valuable Sidekicks**

A whisper-quiet, highly maneuverable mini-chopper landed discreetly atop a building several hundred feet away from the chaos below.

"I'll go ahead. You guys can follow, but be careful," Spiderman said and gave a final nod to his companions before swinging away on a strand of webbing.

"That's one thing he does with style," Cheyenne commented with admiration.

Thick, black smoke columned above the main stage and places around it, turning a little district of Times Square into a war zone. Whoever was behind the bombing succeeded in making it a spectacle.

Swinging his way toward the source of the explosion, Spiderman arrived to see a smoldering stage with a growing number of civilians, law enforcement personnel and firemen, sifting through the wreckage.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Spiderman called out to one of the startled firemen.

"Spidey! There might be some people trapped under all this. We can't clear the area fast enough. Can you help us dig through a little faster?"

Nodding, Spiderman shot strands of webbing into the mountain of fallen debris and started clearing sections away.

Soon enough, Cheyenne, Harry and Mj arrived with more rescue workers as they volunteered to sort through the rubble with their own hands.

Feeling a chill of concern, Spiderman dialed Indy's cell just to make absolutely sure she was safe and sound. When she didn't answer, his heart rate sped up. As he desperately called again, praying she'd answer, his sensitive hearing picked up a muffled, familiar song. From somewhere inside the collapsed stage, Indira Daimonji's cellphone tune chorused repeatedly.

_Hang on Indy, I'm coming!_

Programming his touch-phone to continuously speed dial Indy's number gave him a sound beacon to her exact location. Ignoring the danger signals of his own body, Spiderman dug frantically to reach her.

"I think I see someone," one of the firemen said, clearing away a wooden panel to reveal a dirty, bleeding and unconscious Indy.

"Is she - "

"She's fine, Spiderman. We can take it from here," said a lady paramedic who rushed in with a trauma kit. Her colleagues followed suit with a stretcher and an oxygen tank.

Immensely relieved that Indy was found and in the hands of the paramedics, Spiderman returned to further remove the remaining piles of rubble, albeit at a staggered pace. The spike of adrenaline he used to rescue Indy had taken its toll on his weakened state. He started feeling dizzy and slightly dehydrated.

"Excuse me...does anyone have any water?" Spiderman asked around tiredly.

"Here," a paramedic offered, tossing him a full bottle.

Carefully lifting the bottom of his mask away from his mouth, Spiderman greedily drank in huge gulps, unaware that he had an audience of curious onlookers staring intently at his exposed neck and jaw, trying to guess the identity of their celebrated superhero.

_Sorry, boys and girls, I get first dibs on that face_, Harry Osborn thought with a grin. He surveyed the crowd as they unabashedly gawked at Spiderman's exposed jaw line.

Pitching the empty water bottle into the nearest recycling bin, Spiderman returned to finish the task of locating the remaining injured.

"Um, Spiderman, I think you should take it easy," Mj said quietly.

"I'll be fine. I promise, I won't overwork myself. But I need to make sure that anyone still trapped can get the help they need," Spiderman replied, giving Mj's shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

Nodding reluctantly, Mj stepped back and allowed him to leave but stubbornly stayed nearby, just in case.

Another hour of steady work and fatigue was inevitable. Cursing inwardly in frustration, Spiderman knew he had to stop soon or risk collapsing. He leaned heavily against a chunk of debris and watched sadly as another badly burned corpse was sealed tightly in a body-bag, bringing the casualty total to eighty. This time it looked like a young teenager and it angered him knowing that after her identity was verified, her family would be informed of her death. Random acts of senseless violence that resulted in the loss of innocent lives made him sick and livid, and he always felt responsible for every single person he failed to save.

"There's a kid trapped under here!"

Bodies rushed frantically to whoever yelled out in alarm. Underneath the rubble from the front section of a collapsed building, a faint cry was heard.

"Sounds like a little girl!"

"Hey! We gotta hurry! This area's really unstable!"

"Oh, that poor girl!"

"What're we gonna do?"

As the gathering crowd of volunteers and rescue personnel exclaimed their distress, Spiderman noticed a gap at the bottom of the pile, the size of a decent crawl space.

"I got this. If I hurry, I can get to her before this stuff comes down," Spiderman declared.

"No! Too dangerous! Even for you, Spidey," warned several firefighters and rescue workers.

"I'd rather not stand around debating the issue. I'm going," Spiderman said irritably and disappeared into the rubble.

"He'll be killed!" Mj said in a blind panic, rushing forward.

"Hold on, honey!" Cheyenne said, catching up to Mj and yanking her back.

"Lemme go!"

"No can do. Spandex'll have my hide if I let ya do anythin' stupid."

Carefully but quickly winding his way through the maze of debris, Spiderman eventually reached what looked like a large space inside the pile, where a little girl of about seven was crying and huddled in a ball.

"Don't be afraid, kid, I'm here to get you out."

"Spiderman!" the girl blurted out, a big smile on her tear-streaked face.

"Come on, let's get you outta here. But first..."

Using his webbing, he wrapped up the girl's arms and legs for protection and cocooned her tightly to his chest.

"Okay, here we go. You'll be home soon."

The little girl flattened against him as he carefully picked his way out of the mound of crumbled metal and concrete. As they neared the opening, his costume snagged on a jagged piece of...something. Normally, he would've ignored it and allowed his costume to rip, but he was caught near the hip. If he forced himself free, the resulting tear was critical enough to expose a very scandalous amount of flesh.

"Can you go on ahead the rest of the way? My foot's stuck," Spiderman said with a laugh, removing the webbing that latched the little girl to him. "And don't worry about me. I'll feel a lot better knowing you're safe."

"Okay..." the little girl said meekly, gave her hero a big kiss on his masked cheek, then slowly crawled the rest of the way to freedom.

The gathered crowd cheered as soon as they saw a tangled mass of blond hair emerge from the little opening. Paramedics instantly swarmed the little girl to check her condition.

"Where's Spiderman?" Mj asked out loud, along with a crowd of worried spectators.

From a few feet inside the narrow crawl space, Spiderman tugged to free himself. "I'm alright! I'm just caught on something! Be out in a sec!"

The remains of a chain-link fence had woven its way into his costume and no matter which way he pulled, it just seemed to get worse.

_Brilliant. Looks like I have no choice but to -_

His spider-sense buzzed sharply throughout his body as he felt the entire pile tremble. The haphazard structure was about to crash on top of him! With no time to spare, he frantically backpedalled tearing a good chunk of his costume, and in a flurry of arms and legs wound his way through the unstable debris once more. His only hope for survival was to reach the large space where he found the little girl earlier.

The crowd outside gasped in horror as the entire pile trembled and shifted, pieces of debris avalanching downward, closing off the only visible way out.

Pulling out the visor she uses as Talon from her backpack, Cheyenne placed it over her eyes and scanned the mound.

"He's alive." She showed Harry and Mj the images from her visor. "But we're gonna have to dig him out."

"Looks like it's shallower over here," Harry suggested, as he pointed to a spot on the mound based on readouts from his girlfriend's visor. "Can we get there?"

"Y'know, I think we can. C'mon, hot-stuff, let's dig us out a spider. That man's gonna need his next shot soon."

Mj followed Cheyenne and Harry in a agitated daze as they slipped their way around the newly shaped pile of debris.

* * *

With a relieved exhale of breath, Spiderman sagged against a concrete slab, grateful to his lucky stars that he wasn't crushed to death. Now, as he tried to find another way out of his newly formed rubble prison, pinpoints of light crisscrossed to form a lattice of visibility that allowed him to examine his surroundings. So far, the space he was in was about the size of a bizarrely formed igloo.

_Hmm. I can't risk moving anything in this Jenga jail I'm in. So, where-_

A low moan. And then another.

As Spiderman listened for where the sounds originated, he discovered another opening just above him. Using his webbing to coat most of the igloo-shaped space for more stability, Spiderman gingerly climbed the newly reinforced interior and wormed his way toward the source of the groaning. This time he coated webbing along the tunnel in case he needed a hasty retreat back.

_Good thing it's dark in here. Otherwise, it's not too hard to find out if I prefer boxers or briefs, _Spiderman commented to himself, well aware of the large tear down the right side of his costume. He paused to quickly cover his exposed flesh with some webbing. _NO way am I letting the paparazzi take pictures of my going commando today, either!_

"That's the last time we do an outdoor concert [cough] near shitty, old buildings," Cass Galior rasped, drummer of the highly successful rock band, Dingoes Ate My Baby.

"Fuck it, we're _alive_. Media-mania's gonna have a field day with _this_ story. I think all my body parts are here, though. What about you guys?" Mick Kennedy, guitarist, spoke.

"I feel...whole," groaned Nate Wahler, their guy on keyboards, patting himself all over to be absolutely certain.

"Can't see fuck all!" Tamdin Rikter, their British-born lead singer moaned out petulantly. "How the bloody hell are we wankers getting rescued?"

"Sssshh! Hey! Shut up! Do you guys hear that?" Mick hissed, compelling his band-mates to sit still and listen. Sure enough, they all heard movement from somewhere above them getting louder. Almost as if someone or some _thing_ was steadily approaching.

Before any of them could panic, they heard a friendly voice say, "Anyone alive down there?"

"Ozzy? Oz, is that you?" Tamdin ventured hopefully.

"Try...'the itsy-bitsy spider'."

Remembering his lighter, Cass fished it out frantically from his jacket pocket and struck the flint.

"Spiderman!" the band exclaimed together in surprise.

"You got trapped in here too?" Nate asked in disbelief.

"Yeah, man, and you look like you got mauled by a tiger," Mick said, squinting in the low light.

"Actually, it was a chain-link fence," Spiderman replied, lowering himself upside down toward them. "On that note, I felt a breeze on my way here, so I think I can find us a way out."

"Suppose that means we stay put like good little boys till you come get us?" Tamdin said dolefully.

"Nope. Too dangerous. This pile of debris' very unstable. You're all better off coming with me. I can make ropes and ladders with my webbing. Think you guys can keep up with me?" Spiderman ribbed.

"Hell, I'll keep up with Superman, if it means getting outta here!" Cass blurted out, feeling very claustrophobic.

The four musicians watched in awe as the famed New York superhero fashioned a rope that lead up into the hole in the 'ceiling'.

"Wish we had flashlights," Cass griped as he prepared to climb up. He flipped the cover of his lighter shut, took a few deep breaths and grasped the web-rope.

Outside the mountain-shaped pile of steel and cement, Cheyenne paused and stared at the additional blobs of thermal color on her visor.

"Seems 'ole Spidey found more survivors," Cheyenne said with a grin. "That boy's always workin', even when he knows his own life's on the line."

"Are we close?" Mj asked impatiently.

"Keep your thong on, girl, we're almost there," Cheyenne laughed and glanced at her scanner. "Hold up. Spidey's on the move with four people."

Harry watched as Cheyenne's fingers moved rapidly across a handheld keypad. "What're you doing?"

"Reprogramming my visor to...here we go," Cheyenne said and re-pointed it at the large debris mound in front of them.

"That thing's got x-ray too?" Harry exclaimed, clearly impressed when he took a peek.

"You of all people should know, I'm just _full_ of surprises," Cheyenne said with a wink.

"I guess they're all headed out...that way," Mj said as she peered through Cheyenne's visor and looked in the direction of a damaged office building.

"Guess we're gonna be the little welcoming party. Shall we, ladies?" Harry grinned.

Inside the wreckage, Spiderman followed behind the four musicians, stopping every so often to reinforce the small spaces they were weaving through.

"Hey! I see light up ahead!" Cass said jubilantly, who was positioned first in the line.

"Hold up! Don't move too fast! Even I can't stop this whole pile from tumbling down on us," Spiderman warned from the back.

"Sorry, Spidey," Mick replied, slowing down his excited crawl.

"Freedom, sweet freedom," Nate mumbled, heart still pounding frantically.

"I think I hear people. Ey! Oy! We're survivors! We're coming out!" Tamdin shouted frantically, the third body in single file.

"Shut the fuck up, man! You're gonna get us all killed!" Mick hissed angrily.

"My condolences, mates, but I want _out_! Mick, move your arse or I'm pushing past you!"

"Will you calm the fuck down, Tam? We're almost there!" Cass gritted back.

But already in a blind panic, the band's lead singer forcefully tried to squeeze himself past whoever was blocking his way to the small opening.

"Damn it!" Spiderman cursed irritably as he tried to diffuse the dangerous amount of commotion the four musicians were now making.

"Shit. Something's wrong," Cheyenne said and paused, staring forward.

The trio had descended into the office building's basement via a clever series of shortcuts Cheyenne found with the help of her visor.

"What the hell's happening?" Harry said in disbelief as they arrived near the basement's wreckage.

"One of the survivors is panickin'. Not good. They're gonna make the whole thing collapse on them."

"What are we standing around here for, then? Let's dig them out!" Mj said anxiously, just as she saw movement to her right.

Someone's hand punched through pieces of crumbled concrete blocks, fingers clawing desperately for anything they could hold onto.

"Got ya!" Harry said, grabbing a hold of the outstretched hand and pulling. Soon, a dirt-covered figure emerged, his lungs coughing out dust and smoke.

"Hurry, sugar-buns, the whole thing's shiftin' again!" Cheyenne yelled.

"Move! Move! MOVE!" Spiderman goaded the remaining musicians as his Spider-sense filled his head and body with dread. With no time to spare, he pushed three bodies in front of him forward and out the small opening.

"NO!" Mj screamed in horror as she watched the whole pile shift, debris cascading downward, the mound eventually imploding before them.

With what little adrenaline he had left, Spiderman braced himself for the impact of cement and metal as it crashed down around him. Pushing upwards with all his strength, he somehow managed to hold up a thick slab of concrete for the agonizing moments it took for the shifting debris to settle down before he lost consciousness.

"He's still alive! Barely, but _alive_," Cheyenne shouted and started digging like a madwoman.

Face streaked with tears, Mj dug with inhuman speed and prayed for the safety of her anonymous costumed savior. "I see him!" She latched onto an arm and started to pull.

"Wait, Red! Don't!" Cheyenne said, yanking Mj away from Spiderman's dusty, ragged arm.

"What're you _doing_?" Mj raged.

"If you pull him out like that, you're gonna _kill_ 'im!" Cheyenne shouted back.

"Huh?" Harry asked, confused.

"Spiderman's hurt. We gotta dig him out, but don't pull him out! You guys'll know why in a sec," Cheyenne said and continued to dig around Spiderman's slowly emerging figure. Three of the musicians recovered enough sense and promptly came to help out.

After a few minutes, Harry and Mj stared wide-eyed at the prone, disheveled figure of Spiderman with a jagged, metal rebar piercing through his stomach.

* * *

In a large penthouse office on the upper-most floors of Texas-based oil corporation, Black Gold, Neil Cain stood restlessly as he faced a spectacular view of New York city, trying desperately to ignore another one of his mother's moody tirades. Unfortunately, today was a particularly bad day.

"Mother, whatever gave you the impression that I've given up our search?" Cain said through clench teeth. His patience had worn dangerously thin.

"You seem to be more devoted to your current obsession than your main objective. Need I remind you that the longer that hussy stays alive, the harder it will be to stake your claim as the rightful heir to Tate International!" Jia Wong-Cain shrieked back. "Are you going to just let it all slip away? To be the owner and overseer of two major, global corporations that cornerstone the world economy?"

"I'm aware of that scenario a thousand times, mother," Cain ground out. _Since you've been reminding me every waking moment of my life!_

He resisted the urge to pull away when he felt the woman's arms encircle his waist.

"I'm sorry. You know how I feel about this matter. I'm just looking out for your future. Is it too much to ask, to live to see my son rule the world?" Jia purred.

Neil Cain studied the reflection of his mother's face against the glass. Age had definitely been kind to her Chinese features, with only the barest hint of a wrinkle near her eyes and mouth. Although, it was fair to mention that frequent visits to the finest spas and facial clinics in Europe and Asia were no doubt major benefactors. Money, in wild abundance, _can_ play a key role in effectively slowing down Mother Nature to a crawl. After all, it's a commonly known fact that women, for the most part, do _not_ age gracefully, even under the best of circumstances. And whatever grounds Jia made up for in physical appearance, took an absolute toll on her _attitude_.

The bitch just got _crabbier_ every year.

"Tell you what," Neil Cain began, his repertoire of sweet smiles in full force as he turned around to face her. "I've had another promising lead and I think it's big. It would be an enormous help to me if you could follow this one up on my behalf. It'll be a pleasant diversion for you, as well."

Jia Wong-Cain studied her son's face for a moment and smiled. "This isn't another one of your attempts to get me out of your hair, is it? If that's true, as your mother, I find it very insulting."

"I also have an exciting surprise for you when you reach your destination." Oh, how the woman _loved_ surprises. He saw the immediate excitement in her eyes and pressed on. "I've arranged for you to simultaneously indulge in the three things you enjoy the most."

"Really? And which three things would that be, since you know your dear mother so well?" Jia taunted.

"Money, men and majesty," Cain enumerated with a devious smile, her eyes blazing with glee. He discovered that accurately knowing his mother's likes and dislikes allowed him to keep his sanity.

"I'm the luckiest mother in the world to have a son so thoughtful," Jia chirped delightedly, kissing both her son's cheeks affectionately. Then with a sour face she added, "Is that woman coming along?"

"I'll never understand your aversion to Adel, mother. She's been indispensable to me. So, why is her Jaguar impounded for the _third_ time this month? I'm tired of constantly reminding you _not_ to jeopardize or interfere with her position here! Every delay you cost her, costs _me_!" Cain reiterated angrily for emphasis.

Her son's forcefulness brought tears to her eyes. Jia felt her maternal pride swell at the sight of her magnificent son's commanding presence. The world would truly benefit from his iron rule.

She quickly dabbed at her mascara laden lashes with a silk handkerchief. "Alright. I concede. I give you my word that I'll leave her alone from now on. You seem to need her so badly."

Cain frowned slightly at her intentional jab since it was her that taught him to _never_ rely on anyone but himself.

"How soon can I leave?" Jia asked, changing the subject to something that urgently sparked her interest.

"The instant you're ready," Cain said sweetly. _Would__ 'yesterday' be too much of a problem?_

"Alright, then, I'll see you when I return," Jia said and promptly turned around, leaving the room without another word.

_At last, she's gone! _Neil Cain breathed a sigh of relief.

He strolled towards his expansive, meticulously polished, coastal-redwood desk and sat down, pressing an intercom button to summon Adel. When she entered his office, he locked the door for extra privacy using a slim remote he held in his hand. Today, she wore a white, form-fitting pantsuit and red lipstick.

"All the arrangements for my mother have been made?"

"She'll be ready to depart at a moment's notice. I even personally selected the valet who'll be accompanying her."

"Good. That should distract her long enough to forget about me for a while," Cain said and stood up. He walked toward the front of his desk and leaned against it, crossing his arms against his chest. "Any further word from our two mad scientists?"

"They'll be coming up with another formula, a much stronger one, and try again. The fact that Spiderman's still alive and walking is a clear indication that their first trial failed."

The daylight from outside interacted nicely with Adel's striking blue eyes and her fair skin seemed to glow. She also had her hair bound tightly behind her head. Something he'd be correcting soon enough.

"Sir, if you don't mind me saying, I'd really prefer it if we used the couch from now on. It's infinitely more comfortable than your desk or the floor," Adel said matter-of-factly, already removing the clip that bound her hair back. Despite the man's many formidable talents, when it came to sex, Neil Cain was pathetically easy to read.

Grinning lustfully like a Cheshire cat, he quickly began to loosen his tie.

* * *

"Oh, God..." Mj choked out, her hands bloody and trembling.

"Vitals are shaky but stable," Cheyenne stated. Removing her goggles, Harry watching as she detached components from it. "Hand-held laser cutter. Everyone gimme some space and nobody look at the beam."

As the group around her obeyed, Cheyenne precisely and quickly severed the exposed rebar beneath him, setting Spiderman free from being attached to a slab of building.

"Damn, what a mess," Cheyenne muttered, her eyes roaming along Spiderman's injured abdomen. "If we don't take this thing out fast and careful..." She sighed. "I know someone we can reach who runs a private clinic. We should haul ass there, pronto."

"Why? There are dozens of rescue crews outside who - " Mj pleaded.

"Honey, _think_! The man wants to keep his identity a _secret_! If we hand him over to them...?" Cheyenne scolded Mj impatiently. "Harry, help me carry him. Our chopper's up on the roof. Let's go."

"Who _are_ you people?" Mick said incredulously.

"We're Spidey's friendly neighborhood support squad. Now, if _any_ of you breath a word of what you've seen here today to _anyone_, I _will_ know about it, I _will_ track down the one responsible and make that person _disappear_ without a trace. I'm a professional, boys, I don't make idle threats."

"Hey, back off, lady! Spidey there just saved our lives! But if you need to hear it, you have my _word_ that _none_ of us will say anything, to _anybody_," Cass said resolutely. There were spoken words of agreement from his other band-mates.

"Good enough for me, right babe?" Harry said and glanced at Cheyenne. When she nodded, he bent down to try and figure out how to carry Spidey's injured body up to the roof.

"Hey, wait, we can help carry him," Cass offered. "We'll just stay in the elevator or you can blindfold us or whatever."

Grinning, Cheyenne shook her head. "No need to go that far. C'mon, we gotta move before he bleeds out."

* * *

In another part of the city, a few hours before the explosion at the concert in Times Square, a tall, stocky man wearing a city maintenance uniform smiled to his coworkers, punching out for the day.

He meandered his way around the city till he reached his place of residence, a run down converted factory building in Lower Manhattan. Once inside, he slammed his steel-enforced door and all the lights in his living space blink on at programmed intervals. He then plopped down on his black, alligator-skin couch, activating several flat-screens on the wall before him with voice command.

"Display all messages," Rex said, scanning quickly through his email, voicemail, texts, video, finally stopping on an encoded radio transmission. "Descramble radio message number three, cypher code: sierra india lima victor echo romeo."

He took a moment to listen, then sat back and was deep in thought.

Rex reached inside a hidden compartment built into his coffee table and pulled out a satellite phone. He pressed one of the numbers he had on speed dial.

"Hey. Yeah. Smooth sailing. You? Uh-huh. Sure, anytime. Got the wire and thanks for the bonus. Nah. Oh, got this sweet tip from Bert about an experimental Humvee. Yeah, _that_ one. Gonna call on Alex to hook it up for me. [laughs] Don't I know it! If this works, I'll fill ya in. Tell ya what, I might even manage a special color for your birthday. [laughs louder] Till death do us part. See you tonight."

Still chuckling, Rex pulled his shirt off, heading straight for the hot tub in another room, the LCD screens in his living room displaying quick flashes of detailed blue prints of every building in and around Times Square.

* * *

to be continued

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Yes! I'm _back_!

I realized that I haven't updated in 3 years, so I smacked myself into action!

Couldn't leave my readers hanging for much longer, now could I? (I know I'm pathetic with the excuses)

Hopefully this latest chapter's proof enough that I'm still around!

Thank you, thank you for all your patronage and support!

For the entire episode starring Cheyenne aka Talon, go to youtube and type in the search box 'mtv spiderman keeping secrets'. That should give you guys an idea of where I'm coming from. (And I pray to whatever media gods are out there to LEAVE these episodes UNTOUCHED for everyone to enjoy!) Also, you can check out my screencaps in my deviant art scrapbook. Look for the link 'DeviantArt Scrapbook' below my avatar on my ffnet profile.

To all Spiderman fanatics out there, I have absolutely NO idea what Peter Parker's blood type is. For my fanfic's sake, I made him the rarest blood type AB- purely for dramatic effect.

'Dingoes Ate My Baby'. I was in a Buffy mood with all this vampire stuff happening in the movies and on TV. (grins) Yes, the band's manager is Harry Osborn's 'distant relative' Daniel 'Oz' Osbourne, (from Buffy) and definitely _not_ Ozzy Osbourne. (LOL) Have no fear, I'm not playing up Oz the werewolf at all in this fic. Just hinting at stuff as a tribute.

The wire fence basically tore the right side of Spidey's costume open, midway from his ribs to just above his knees, along with his underwear. (And I'm guessing his sensitive bits would seriously chafe if he covered them with webbing.) The guy obviously needs heavy _support_ when he's bouncing around as Spidey. It truly wouldn't be a pretty sight for him to go commando in public, especially with such a _tight_ costume! w00t

Hmmm...wonder where Spiderman hides his cellphone...XD


	6. Mad Scientists

**Unmasking a Superhero: Chapter 06 - Mad Scientists**

He could hardly believe his luck. Even after a decade and a half, his partnership with Dr. Robert Halton proved to be more profitable with each passing year. Whistling a favorite tune, Dr. Eric Nelson quickly checked the contents of the inbox on his Vertu cellphone, a fine piece of custom-ordered craftsmanship he proudly designed himself. He replied to a few urgent messages, slipped the titanium-alloy phone into his jacket pocket, and grabbed the morning paper to read on his way to meet his colleague at their favorite restaurant for brunch.

Late afternoon yesterday, Dr. Nelson and his partner sealed a 45 million dollar side-project of redesigning a military weapon of mass destruction, successfully accommodating their client's needs to the letter. That particular client was so pleased, in fact, that they were each given a sizable luxury yacht as a bonus. Their present client - prompted by numerous referrals - had contacted them six months ago to develop a type of super-virus, a project that was of invaluable interest to the pair. Not only was this new endeavor far more lucrative than the last, it was proving to be quite challenging as well.

"You're late."

"By a full minute," Dr. Nelson replied smoothly, a finger pointing to his watch.

"Sadly, they don't make a Rolex like they used to."

"You could always readjust your eye prescription, Robert, but it's a losing battle since old age is a major factor."

"And overconfidence can get you killed in the lab," Dr. Halton ribbed back with a grin.

The two men sat at their usual private table overlooking a perfectly manicured indoor garden, complete with the pleasant trickling of water down a large, stone-textured wall. Their usual waiter, an elderly gentleman, presented them with a special menu of featured items for the day to tempt their palates.

"I'll start with a Gazpacho, followed by the Wild Apple Celery Salad and the Rabbit Paté with Pickled Cherries and Crosnes," Dr. Halton said with a smile, handing the waiter his menu. Their maitre d' then looked expectantly at Dr. Nelson seated opposite him.

"I'll start with a salad, the Brussels Sprout Petals with Chablis-Poached Anjou Pears and Red Pearl Onions, followed by the Roasted Squab Breast with Spaetzle, Persimmons, Winter Stone Fruit Puree and Squab Jus."

"Excellent choices, gentlemen. I'll return shortly with a platter of selected hors d'oeuvres Martinello would like you both to try."

"Oh, and Raji, bring the wine list, please," Dr. Nelson said, surrendering his own menu and watching their waiter's swift retreat.

"Transcending to a lush these days, Eric? How European."

"I recently heard that your tailor ordered double the amount of fabric needed for your suits. Time to go on a diet, Robert," Dr. Nelson quipped back and smiled to himself. He knew exactly why Dr. Halton was in an exceptionally good mood.

"She called you again, didn't she?"

"Ah, Adel Keele. Have you ever met a more beautiful woman?" Dr. Halton gushed in admiration. The thought of seeing her again in person made him feel thirty years younger.

"She does adore me best, I'll have you know. At least I'm just a lush and not a pervert. Besides, she only likes you because you remind her of her father."

"Low blow, even for you, Eric," Dr. Halton responded with a slight frown. "Nevertheless, I seem to recall her telling me she preferred men with more maturity."

Before Dr. Nelson could express a witty retort, their garçon, Raji, returned with a wine list and a silver platter decorated with various hors d'oeuvres in artful configurations.

Dressed in impeccably tailored Brooks Brothers suits, both men tried the delightful canapés, dips and tidbits their favorite chef had prepared for them.

"This truffled foie gras is delicious! Martinello has definitely outdone himself this time," Dr. Nelson said with a sparkle of pleasure in his dark green eyes. Compared to money, wine and women, gourmet food was where he was most impassioned.

"Did you know they made foie gras by force-feeding young geese with a tube down their throats, three times a day for two weeks, till their livers grow twelve times their normal size?" Dr. Halton said matter-of-factly as he bit down on a caviar-topped fois gras laden cracker from the presented platter.

"The way sharks are close to extinction because of the demand for Shark's Fin soup? Perhaps the appalling dolphin and whale slaughter that's taking place in a secluded cove in Japan or how they make veal? Your point? I suppose you were ignorant of where all the fur and skin that create your collection of Haute Couture clothes, shoes and accessories come from?" Dr. Nelson enumerated, conceding to his friend's train of thought. "Not to mention all those ridiculously expensive anti-wrinkle facial and body creams you seem so fond of purchasing?"

"They were for Adel," Dr. Halton growled back, cutting and chewing rather forcefully on his salad when it arrived.

"Your mood swings remind me of my grandmother."

"Oh, shut up," Dr. Halton hissed, irritated that he'd lost his temper yet again on a bout of their silly bantering, and that glaring at his younger colleague only made the chuckling worsen.

Raji waited patiently nearby until Dr. Nelson composed himself enough to read the exclusive vintage wine list.

"Shall we try the Chateau Petrus 1945 Pomorol today, Robert?"

"Sounds good. And have two bottles of the Le Voyage de Delamain hand-delivered to my penthouse, will you, Raji?"

"Right away, sir. Will that be all, gentlemen?" Raji asked. When both men nodded, he took his leave.

"A bit excessive," Dr. Nelson commented.

"Adel has a bit of a sweet tooth," came the smug reply.

"How's the mood of our benefactor these days?" Dr. Nelson said, changing the subject. He'd rather not dwell on whatever activities Dr. Halton did that involved their benefactor's irresistibly attractive personal assistant. "His composure surprised me, especially after _we_ obviously set his master plan back inconclusively."

"Biochemical weaponry's a tricky and fickle thing to get involved in, much less try to solve. We did warn him of that fact during our brief presentation. Our client can only benefit more from our services if he's patient," Dr. Halton said confidently. "Mr. Cain's first and foremost a businessman and not a sociopathic thug. Thankfully, that was the reprieve we were given. That should buy us a decent amount of time to make adjustments to our formula."

"I suppose we get three strikes if we're lucky?"

"Three strikes, Eric, and we're _dead_," Dr. Halton said with finality.

A grim silence shrouded both men as they sat in speculation of their possible fate. After a long moment, they stared at each other wordlessly with an mutual understanding that neither of them would accept defeat tackling their current enterprise. Both men were absolute in their mental superiority and smugly smiled, clinking their wine glasses briefly together to signify their decision.

Their client, Neil Cain, _will_ have Spiderman at his disposal if it killed them. Failure was simply not an option for the two rogue scientists. Their pride wouldn't allow it. After all, they had a flawless reputation to keep.

* * *

_Six months prior to their involvement with Neil Cain..._

Maniacal laughter filled a private laboratory as Dr. Eric Nelson stared at the finished product of nearly a year of intense hard work. The development of the new alloy was finally complete. He and his partner's efforts were soon to be rewarded handsomely.

"I've never seen you so...focused," Dr. Halton chuckled. "Unless of course, a beautiful woman had something to do with it."

"You're one to talk, a man with an exclusive express pass to the Playboy Mansion. I'm sure Miss September's delighted by your patronage."

Clearing his throat, Dr. Halton examined a flak jacket constructed from the newly developed alloy. "Back to the task at hand, shall we? Who's turn is it, anyway?"

"Mine."

After coolly donning a military grade protective vest, Dr. Nelson swiftly walked inside a fully enclosed, reinforced room and calmly stood on a marked 'x' on the cement floor made with red duct tape.

"Ready whenever you are, old chap."

From outside the reinforced room, Dr. Halton wore a protective sound dampener over his ears, took hold of a Barrett M107 anti-materiel .50 caliber sniper rifle and peered through the scope. He then targeted a yellow, smiley-face sticker stuck to the alloy-lined flak jacket, the sticker intentionally positioned over his colleague's heart. "Nice touch."

"Thank you. Good to know your military training isn't going to waste, Robert. Fire away."

"This may sting a little," was all the warning Dr. Nelson received from his older colleague before his body was thrown back from the force of the ballistic impact, hitting the cushion behind him like a rag doll.

Groaning and dazed, Dr. Nelson gritted his teeth as his colleague helped him to his feet.

"That one's going to leave a nasty bruise for a while," Dr. Halton commented with a grin, carefully examining the point of impact on his partner's armored vest.

"How's it look?" Dr. Nelson asked, wincing.

"You're alive, so that's a plus," Dr. Halton answered, squinting a little as he peered at the shallow hole, digging out a smoking, flattened .50 caliber shell from his colleague's chest plate with a pair of needle-nosed pliers. "A rather successful first test of this new concoction, wouldn't you agree, Eric?"

"Not bad, but we could still improve the vest's construction for the moment of impact. We should double the amount of alloy plates in the vest's lining."

"That would also double the cost," Dr. Halton countered.

"Our deadline's fast approaching, so it's as good as it's going to get. I'm sure I can convince our client to run with what we have," Dr. Nelson said confidently.

"I don't think Ms. Sablinova's a lady that thrives on compromise."

"We can promise her an after-sale service by improving upon the alloy's formula. Besides, she has her own deadline to worry about. The most important fact is that we can provide her with a working field model slightly earlier than she expected. She'll pay the adjustments."

An amused twinkle in Dr. Halton's eyes made his colleague laugh.

* * *

_Further back, a decade and a half prior to their involvement with Neil Cain..._

Inside an highly classified underground laboratory heavily funded by military clients, a team of scientists stood behind a thick layer of impact resistant glass carefully observing the reactions of a fully-armored individual running through a specially designed 'gauntlet' within the testing area. A remarkable result of five years of meticulous work ethic and teamwork by the best scientific minds money could buy.

"She's a work of art," Dr. Peterson breathed excitedly, clapping an older colleague's back, jerking the man involuntarily forward. "Sorry."

Grunting, Dr. Halton cleared his throat and straightened his lab coat over his shoulders. "I'll phone General Morris for a preliminary viewing tomorrow. He should be pleased with our results."

"Of course they will," Dr. Peterson commented out loud, rubbing his hands together conspiratorially amid snickers and chuckling from the other scientists around him. "Those military big-wigs can't function without us 'egg-heads' coddling them."

"You _are_ one silly son-of-a-bitch, aren't you, Henry," Dr. Nelson said nonchalantly, crossing his arms. "I suppose it's slipped your mind that our guinea pigs are merely in the _preliminary_ stages of testing?"

Brushing off the younger man's criticism of his behavior and the situation, Dr. Peterson carried on as if the sky had started raining gold coins. Although the rest of their team found it amusing, Dr. Halton shook his head and wondered about the future of their project with a skeptical knot of his brow. Glancing over to his right, he noted that Dr. Nelson shared his misgivings. Their test subjects, for the most part, physically handled their genetic modification with astonishingly positive results and with little to minor visible side-effects. But the true test of success lay heavily with the long term results. After only three months of continuous testing, a few of their subjects already began showing signs of mental instability. Remembering the day with surprising clarity, he, along with Dr. Nelson, had argued against the ridiculously short time-frame given to perfect their functioning test subjects.

Pulling Dr. Nelson aside, Dr. Halton whispered with apprehension about the viability of their project to his nodding colleague. The two men watched from a quiet corner of the lab as the rest of their team continued their premature celebration, an elation neither of the men shared. A strange understanding passed between them as they secretly made plans to surface as winners from the project regardless of the outcome.

* * *

_Back to the present..._

In the dim light of her bedroom, an attractive woman with platinum blonde hair sat gritting her teeth as she struggled to insert a needle into a vein in her arm. Her entire body shook violently and uncontrollably from her malfunctioning nervous system. After patiently managing the shot, the serum in the vial took instantaneous effect. The violent shaking immediately ceased. She cursed herself for recently pushing past the allotted time for her scheduled injections.

Sighing, the woman entered her bathroom and turned on the shower. She stood leaning on a porcelain sink below a large mirror, staring at her haggard appearance from the stress of her condition. Her mind wandered to dark places as she remembered instances from her past, her attractive face distorting with a grimace.

The shrill ringing of her cellphone startled her.

Cursing again, she stomped to her touch-screen phone doubling as a paper weight atop a fan of documents that were spread across her satin duvet.

"Yes?" she said, answering the unlisted number.

"You've sounded better," said a man with a New Zealand accent.

Smiling despite her sour mood, she replied, "I messed up. Waited too long between shots this time."

There was an exasperated sigh and muttered cursing from the tiny speaker.

"Are you trying to kill yourself, Dely? I can't stress enough how important that schedule is! The more you stray from it the faster your condition deteriorates! I thought you wanted to _live_ to see - "

"I _do_! I'm sorry, okay? I'm grateful for your help, Charlie, I really am," she answered apologetically. "Listen, I've got the shower running, I'll call you as soon as I'm done."

"Want me to come over and scrub your back?"

Laughing, she replied, "I can manage, thank you. I'm not _that_ far gone just yet."

"At the rate you're abusing yourself, you're that much closer to Hades. So stick to the bloody schedule, alright, darling? My genius can only go so far trying to repair that hot body of yours."

"Flattery might get you somewhere," she said cheekily. "Call you in a bit."

In a better mood, she discarded the phone as it landed face down, bouncing slightly near the pictures of two men. A dark look spread across her face as she glanced at the photos, reminding her again of a past that never failed to torment her.

She left the two smiling faces on various photographs as she closed the bathroom door, daydreaming of the day when she would meet the two men together, face to face. In her mind the images on the photo shifted to disfigured, bloody carcasses as she dreamily carved the smug expressions from their faces with a serrated hunting knife.

* * *

to be continued

* * *

**Correspondence**:

_htbthomas_ - I've tried to write this story to accommodate everyone who hasn't seen the MTV CGI cartoon series, to enjoy it for what it is. Hopefully, I've done that and you're entertained by what you've read so far.

_Elisa_ - Thank you very much for your lovely note. Harry and Pete are a hoot when you place them in the same room together. LOL. Sadly, since the series itself has been discontinued, I'm definitely taking some liberty with the characters they introduced.

_IcyWaters_ - Wow! Thanks! I'm indebted to your kind patronage. I hope I live up to your continued expectations. As for the Spiderman universe in general, though I've never collected the comics, I've seen the many TV cartoon series incarnations, and draw qualities from them.

_the sadistic homicidal child_ - Thank you for your truckload of Spidey plushies!

_SeikoTuNer_ - My sincerest apologies for my slow updates! ^_^

_Alice Rose Winter_ - I'm trying! I'm freaking trying! xD

_Girl_ - Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes, I'll do my best! Thank you! I didn't mean to make you (or anybody else for that matter) beg! (bows humbly)

_Indiana Joanna_ - I haven't abandoned it. Fighting life for time and inspiration is a neverending battle. Thank you very much for your rally of support! (sniff)

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Better late than never?

^_^;

Many thanks to my faithful readers out there! This writer is _deeply_ grateful for all your kind support!


	7. A Not so Secret Identity

**Unmasking a Superhero: Chapter 07 - A Not-So-Secret Identity**

"Damn it!" Peter Parker cursed irritably, forced into action by the four musicians he was trying to rescue. _Nothing_ prepared him for the shocker of this particular scenario, having to save the lives of the members of his favorite rock band!

The panicking lead singer, Tamdin Rikter, had forcefully wormed his way past his angry band-mates, slamming and pushing dangerously against the haphazard tunnel of debris. He then punched through the small, sunlit opening that was their objective, struggling to push his arm then his body through it, before being pulled out the rest of the way by someone from the outside.

Sure enough, even with reinforcement from his webbing, Peter's spider-sense warned him of the unstable pile's imminent collapse.

With the heroism befitting a selfless individual, Peter did the first thing he could think of during that crucial moment, and unceremoniously shoved the remaining band members out the larger opening.

He knew there wasn't any time to free himself, so he'd have to cash out another one of his 'nine lives' to survive.

_This is gonna hurt..._

The quivering and quaking of the mountainous pile of debris traveled through Peter's flesh and bones as he lay on his back, using his remaining strength to push back the full weight of whatever was above him. A thick concrete slab the size of his body covered him like a shield, and he used his arms and legs like props on a table.

The rubble beneath him gave way as he was slammed down like the proverbial nail with a hammer, and blacked out the instant he felt the painful piercing of something sharp and jagged through his abdomen.

* * *

The grim expression on Dr. Klein's face set everyone in the small waiting room on edge when he arrived. His brow shimmered with sweat and his operating uniform was smeared with blood. Mj thought she would pass out.

"His abdominal area's out of harms way. He's made it through the worst of it. But Spiderman's lost a lot of blood," Dr. Kilian Klein said slowly. "My problem right now is that I've used up all of my reserves during the operation. The man's got a blood type that's in very limited supply, and if I dip into the vault of the hospital next door, there's no way to conceal it."

"No problem, Lian, I can get some in," Cheyenne said, cellphone in hand, already scrolling through her contact list. "Last thing we need is police and paparazzi around us."

"I doubt even you can work _this_ miracle, Shy," Dr. Klein said sadly.

"We can't just give up!" Mj burst out angrily.

"I have no intention to," Dr. Klein countered calmly, habituated to diffusing various forms of hysteria when dealing with family members or the close aquaintances of his patients.

"How rare are we talking here?" Harry asked.

"B negative. And we need a batch within 3 hours."

"_Shit_," Cheyenne breathed out. "Leave it to Spandex to make things so fucking difficult!" She kicked a few chairs around the waiting room and ran a hand through her hair in exasperation. "Even with the people I know, there's no way I can get that kind of blood here within that time frame."

Dr. Klein stood back and allowed the small group a moment to simmer down as his bad news sank in. Cheyenne paced the waiting room ranting with colorful curse-words while the redheaded Mj went pale as a ghost. What caught his eye was the bewildered look on young multi-billionaire, Harry Osborn, as the young man stared at nothing in particular, his brows crunched together and his mouth partly open. He seemed to be having a bizarre but heated mental argument with himself.

"Of all the damn things that could happen..." Harry said flatly and shook his head. _Now I _know_ someone up there hates me._

"Harry? What're you talkin' about?" Cheyenne asked, concern on her face.

"Irony. Kismet. Karma. Fuck. I don't know!" Harry yelled out, a wild look in his eyes. Both his female companions immediately attempted to calm him.

"Baby," Cheyenne crooned softly, grasping hold of his face with both her hands and meeting his gaze. "What is it? Tell me."

"I..." Harry began to say, but stopped and gritted his teeth. Tears suddenly filled his eyes and his lips quivered in distress. "This...it's too much..."

"Ssssh, hey, what's too much?"

"_This__!_ All of this! This whole cluster-fuck! And, that...wall-crawling _freak_ of Mother Nature in there!" Harry burst out, backing away from Cheyenne's outstretched hands.

"Hush, baby, you're not making sense..."

"_Nothing_ makes sense anymore, Cheyenne! Not my life...not fucking _anything!"_

"Shall I give him a sedative?" Dr. Klein asked.

"Stay outta this, Lian," Cheyenne warned her friend. "Give us a minute."

The redhead of the group stepped forward.

"I'd like to see him," Mj implored the doctor softly. "Please, can I see him?

Sighing, he stepped aside to allow Mj down the short corridor to the operating room. The members of his trusted staff followed suite, taking his cue and allowing her to pass.

Harry turned his head and watched Mj half-run, disappearing behind heavy, double doors. Grabbing one of Cheyenne's wrists, he pulled her after him toward the same destination.

"Wait! You all can't - "

"Zip it, Lian," Cheyenne warned again, allowing Harry to tow her along.

Cursing, Dr. Klein was hot on the pair's heels, if only to insure that the insistent visitors didn't upset the delicate condition of his unique patient too much.

Inside the operating room, the overhead lights were dimmed as Spiderman's injured body lay atop a fully adjustable gurney in the center of the room. The gurney was surrounded by various machines designed to monitor his body's every vital sign, with a few customized instruments scattered about that were definitely not standard issue in any hospital.

A multitude of tubes and probes were attached to different parts of Spiderman's body, bags of blood and fluids hanging from half-a-dozen poles nearby. A light, cotton sheet covered him to mid-chest, his arms exposed at his sides for a needle's easy access.

Dr. Klein had been made aware of Spiderman's additional ailment during the operation, administering Cheyenne's special serum to stabilize him. But the slow deterioration of Spiderman's internal organs were a cause of alarm and surprise to the seasoned doctor, who claimed he thought he'd seen everything. Ever the professional, he advised his staff to carefully leave the mask that covered Spiderman's face intact, except for ripping holes at his eyes, nose and mouth for diagnosis, oxygen and a drain tube.

_Less than three hours and ticking..._

Harry was unreadably riveted to Mj's movements as she stood beside Spiderman's gurney, holding his hand and speaking softly in his ear. Part of his inner turmoil wanted to scream in anger and shove her away from the costumed aberration and be done with it.

But could he really do it? Did he have it in him to leave the freak-of-a-man to die in cold blood? Could he live with the fact that he killed Spiderman, strongly torn as he was now about the so-called superhero's involvement in his father's murder? Buried deep inside him was the ability to do the right thing...even if he was guilty of making the wrong choices on many occasions.

_I still need to KNOW..._

"Dr. Klein, can you wake him? I need to ask him something," Harry said carefully in a low, even voice. He ignored the astonished gasps of his female companions.

"Harry! Have you gone _crazy_?" Mj wailed.

"I wouldn't recommend administering an adrenaline shot right now," Dr. Klein stated.

"Will it kill him?" Harry asked again in the same low, even voice.

"No, but - "

"Then _do_ it."

Before Mj could rush to physically slap some sense into her notorious ex-boyfriend, Cheyenne surprisingly held her back and hissed in her ear: "Mj, honey, just watch and wait."

Confused and dazed, Mj numbly obeyed.

"I have the power to save Spiderman's life, but before I do that, I need to ask him something first. Alone...and a_wake_," Harry replied.

"Harry...please...don't do this..." Mj begged softly, tears streaming down her face.

"You're B negative?" Dr. Klein said incredulously.

"Ironically, yes. Now, will you wake him up, already? You said so yourself, doc, we don't have much time," Harry stressed, staring pointedly at the man.

"And by waking him up, you're just speeding up the process," Dr. Klein continued to argue.

Having lost all patience, Harry strode purposefully toward the startled doctor and slammed him against a metal storage cabinet.

"_Wake_ him up!" Harry bellowed once again into Dr. Klein's surprised, but relatively composed face. Raising both his arms slowly on either side of the young man, the doctor gestured for his advancing companions in the operating room to stand down.

"I'll do as you wish, but only if Cheyenne over there gives her permission. She seems to have an invested interest in keeping Spiderman alive," Dr. Klein stated, meeting her gaze from across the room.

"Harry, honey, can you hold onto Mj here for a sec?"

Puzzled, Harry nonetheless did as he was told, taking firm hold of a struggling Mj as he watched Cheyenne quickly circuit the room with Dr. Klein beside her. They stopped on every instrument and were in a hushed, heated discussion. Cheyenne then pinched the bridge of her nose in consternation, impatiently waiting for Dr. Klein to make a decision.

"This goes against _anything_ I've ever done in my entire medical career. Considering the nature of my practice, Shy, that's saying a _lot_," Dr. Klein groused angrily, placing an ominous-looking hypodermic needle in Cheyenne's outstretched hand.

"Mj, hon, I'm so sorry, but Harry and Spiderman here have unfinished business," Cheyenne said softly, wincing when Mj screamed in protest. She watched and sighed as Dr. Klein smoothly administered the redhead a sedative shot to the neck.

Everyone present departed the operating room leaving Harry and Cheyenne standing over Spiderman's unconscious body.

"Harry, you know I love you, but this is officially pushin' it," she said, crossing her arms.

"I know..."

"You _strictly_ have fifteen minutes from the time he's fully awake. You go over that time period, Kilian and I storm in here, and regardless of how you really feel, you're givin' that man your blood, understand?" She saw a sliver of rebellion in Harry's eyes. "I'm sure you prefer to be _awake_ for the process?"

"Are you serious?" Harry gaped.

"Have I _ever_ given you a sign that I'm not?" Cheyenne countered.

_Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit!_

"Fine, whatever. I'll share my blood. Now, can you please wake him up?" Harry grumbled.

With nimble, steady fingers, Cheyenne injected the adrenaline compound into one of Spiderman's intravenous lines. The pair watched the man's reanimation; first twitching, then moaning, the rapid quivering of his eyelids, to the emergence of dilated pupils through the raggedly cut holes in his mask.

Though disoriented, Spiderman's eyes still hastily took in his surroundings. The dimly lit room made it difficult to judge how large it was, but the sounds and presence of various hospital monitoring stations, the antiseptic smell of the air, the cluster and design of the overhead light fixture, the narrow width of his bed, all conclusively pointed to a hospital operating room.

"Fifteen minutes," someone whispered softly. Peter caught the retreating form of someone leaving the room.

"So? Can you tell me your name?" Harry said slyly with a smirk.

"I'm..." Spiderman mumbled, his eyes focusing on whoever asked the question. "...Harry?"

"I don't remember us _ever_ being on a first name basis, Web-head," Harry uttered crossly.

"...no...I guess not..."

"Quit stalling! Here's a recap of events in case you're fuzzy. After you rescued that little girl, you got trapped under a cave-in. Somehow, while you were trying to find a way out, you end up rescuing all the band members of Dingoes Ate My Baby. Then, you get trapped under a _second_ cave-in and get skewered thorough your gut by a piece of metal. Cheyenne cuts you loose, then we carry you to the roof where her helicopter takes you here. We're in a private clinic run by a friend of hers, a Dr. Kilian Klein, who sells his medical skills to the highest bidder. Now, we have less than ten minutes and counting to settle that _promise_ you made to me before we embarked on this twisted adventure!"

Harry bent closer to Spiderman's face and demanded urgently, "_who_ the hell are you and _why_ did you kill my father?"

"I'm sorry, Harry," Spiderman rasped, "...if I had...known that the Green Goblin was your father...I would've found another way to - "

"The fuck you saying, 'the Goblin was my father?'" Harry shouted furiously. "Are you seriously implying that _my father_ was some kind of costumed super-freak like _you_? You're walking on thin ice, you asshole!"

"Super..._villain_...actually..." Spiderman corrected softly.

"Quit playing with me!" Harry roared, looming over Spiderman and gripping the gurney with both his hands, arms on either side of the man's head. "Tell me who you are _right now_ or I swear to God, I'll rip your mask off myself!"

Swallowing reflexively, Peter heard the nervous pounding of his heart as it echoed against his eardrums.

"If...ripping my mask off would've solved all our problems...I would've done it a long time ago..." Spiderman said weakly.

Taken aback by his statement, Harry was speechless.

Seizing the moment of confusion, Spiderman pressed on, feeling cold and clammy from the monumental stress of his circumstances.

"I wasn't born with superpowers, Harry, I got them by _accident_ one day on a school trip. And no matter what I do or who I save, I still end up hurting the ones I love the most." By this time, tears had spilled from his eyes and were soaking into his mask. "I'd take back that horrible day for you if I could, Harry. But I can't. The Goblin would've continued to kill more people and I couldn't allow that. I did what I had to do that night."

One of Spiderman's hands shot out and gripped the young billionaire's wrist firmly, forcing him to stay in place, leaning him close. He felt his body's strength waning. There wasn't much time left.

"With his dying breath your father wanted you to know...he always loved you...and he's sorry...he's so sorry he never...never told you...when he was...alive..."

All at once, every medical instrument attached to Spiderman's body klaxoned a warning. Harry barely registered being shoved aside as Dr. Klein, Cheyenne and a small medical team worked frantically to stabilize Spiderman's vitals.

Numbly, Harry backed onto something solid and slowly sank to a sitting position on the cold floor. The operating room blurred and tossed about like a wave as tears distorted his vision. He was vaguely aware of when Cheyenne approached him, lead him toward a gurney where he was laid down, an I.V. needle piercing through a major vein in his right arm. Feeling detached from his own body, he followed the flow of his blood as it mingled with Spiderman's beside him.

Turning his head, Harry stared at the ceiling, his mind replaying every word that was spoken between them. He may not have learned of Spiderman's true identity, but there was something strangely, frighteningly, _familiar _about his words...not about what was said, but _how_ it was said!

Harry closed his eyes momentarily, enjoying the comforting caress of fingers through in his hair.

"Hiya."

"Hey."

"Did your tete-à-tete go the way you wanted?"

Harry sighed. "Things never go the way you want them to."

"Guess I'm living proof of that," Cheyenne grinned, drawing out a small chuckle from Harry. She wound her fingers with the hand he laid on his chest and squeezed affectionately. "For what it's worth, Spidey's out of the danger zone and your blood will keep him alive till the rest of the supply comes in."

"What about that virus?"

"All the fresh blood seems to be helpin' 'im fight it. I've also been keepin' a close eye on his condition, adjustin' the formula for the antidote he and I started out with. Won't be long till we find the right cure."

The hand on Harry's chest reached up and tucked a strand of Cheyenne's hair behind her ear. "You're amazing, you know that?" She simply smiled and planted a kiss on his palm.

"You look tired, baby, so you go and take a nap. I'll be right here."

Nodding, Harry's eyelids felt heavier, his body weighed down by emotional and mental fatigue. Just before he drifted off, he remembered someone.

"Mj!" Harry called out with a start. "Where is she?"

"No worries. She's a few doors down the hall sleepin' soundly in a soft bed. Sedative won't wear off till tomorrow afternoon. You look like you could drop yourself," Cheyenne said gently. "I won't leave till you're asleep."

"Nnnkay..." Harry muttered in agreement and gave into his exhaustion.

* * *

She was having nightmares and they were the worst they've ever been.

Mj moaned softly and made agitated movements as she slept, her unconscious mind playing out horrible scenarios of Spiderman's death. The image of the bloody rebar piercing through his abdomen was the merciless focal point of her hellish collage.

Flesh, bone and blood.

An ocean of blood.

She was drowning in it...reaching for him as he sank down with her...

Reaching for Spiderman...

Reaching for...

_Peter?_

With a sharp gasp, Mj brought herself back to the waking world, the sedative still heavily clouding her mind and vision. Dazedly, she sat up and stood, leaving her room, wobbly navigating herself down a dimly lit corridor that seemed to stretch out forever in the direction of the operating room. When she finally reached the double doors, she pushed but they held firm. Someone must have electronically locked them shut.

_Fine. I'll find another way in._

Barely in control of her body's fine motor skills, Mj unsteadily wove her way around, entering the first door that yielded to her turning of the knob.

She appeared to be inside an observation room, a large window with one way glass along the length of the wall in front of her. There were three tiers of comfortable leather seats in stadium fashion behind her with just enough room between the wall and the front row of seats for one person to walk through.

Using the narrow ledge of the massive window as a guide and for some support, she tried to find an area of glass that wasn't blocked by a tall cabinet or some form of hospital monitor from inside the operating room. The observation room was most likely no longer in use. When she found a span of glass that was unobstructed, she pressed her face closer and squinted. Sure enough, even in the dim light, she could see Spiderman's unconscious body covered by a white sheet, lying atop the same gurney he was operated on.

She concentrated on the slow rise and fall of his chest, some reassurance that he was still alive. But seeing him from a distance wasn't enough, Mj preferred to be beside him holding his hand.

Movement caught her attention before she turned away. There was someone _else_ in the room with him! Her heart pounded anxiously as a second person that was laying on another gurney beside him, just beyond her field of vision, sat up slowly. Fearing an assassin, Mj nearly screamed for help until the unknown assailant stepped forward from his veil of shadow.

Harry!

What was Harry doing locked inside the operating room?

So far, he seemed to be simply staring at Spiderman's prone form with a blank expression. But when Harry's hands slowly and deliberately approached Spiderman's masked face, Mj gasped in shock.

_No, Harry, stop! Don't do it,_ Mj screamed in her head. _Harry, please, stop,_ she mentally begged him. The remaining effects of the sedative made her tongue too sluggish to form words. All she could do was pound on the glass window with her tightly clenched fists. She watched helplessly as Harry paused and closed his eyes for long tense moments, as if debating against what he wanted to do. When he made his decision, he reached for a pair of scissors, carefully and determinedly cutting off remnants of the tattered mask of New York's costumed super-hero, revealing the young face of a man neither of them _ever_ expected to see underneath!

* * *

to be continued

* * *

**Author's Note:**

***Contrary to popular knowledge AB blood types, though rare, would not lead to a 'blood-transfusion crisis'. With research provided by TWILIGHT SCRIBE, it's actually the blood type B- that is in very short supply, so I've made the necessary corrections. My special thanks for her input!***

How's this? _Two_ chapter updates!

Gah! I know they're short but I'm doing my best! Really!

Dun Dun _Dun__!_ Drum roll or clap of thunder? What in the heck does Harry Osborne think he's doing?

Since I've never collected the comics-just drawing upon stuff watching all the various incarnations of our favorite web-slinger on TV and in the movies-I have truly no idea what Peter and Harry's blood types really are. For the sake of drama, I made them identical.


	8. A Hero Unmasked

**Unmasking a Superhero: Chapter 08 - A Hero Unmasked**

The hum of her private jet, a Gulfstream G550, lulled her into a state of comfort. Her supply cushioned leather recliner, the deep blue sky out her window and in her hand, the perfumed aroma of spring flowers with honeyed melon and peach from the glistening amber-colored Boeri Moscato d'Asti Ribota in her crystal goblet collectively added to familiar luxury. However, an errant thought disrupted the stillness of the moment, and she drank the remaining contents of her wine glass in one practiced swallow.

Jia Wong-Cain easily saw through her son's subterfuge. After all, she taught him everything he knew. Even if it hurt a little that he'd wanted her out of the way, she would play along and not waste the opportunity to have fun at his expense. She thanked the heavens for small favors that at least her son's wind-up, secretary doll, Adel, wasn't on the plane with her! Though the woman had demonstrated nothing but fanatical loyalty to her son, and her many spies had brought back nothing incriminating about Ms. Keele's actions, she was still suspicious.

Her eyes inevitably wandered to the attractive features of the muscled young man who stood like a sentry at the front of the cabin. He was carefully selected, designated to be her flesh-toy for the duration of her forced vacation. Jia smiled, her soft, ruby-colored lips puckering in anticipation ever so slightly. Deciding to push the troublesome thoughts of her son's secretary aside, she concentrated her mind on more pleasurable pursuits.

Oh, yes. She was _definitely_ making the most of her trip away.

* * *

When his encrypted video call ended, Neil Cain, enterprising CEO of Texas-based oil corporation Black Gold, slammed both his fists down on his solid redwood table in frustration.

"Be careful, sir. You might injure yourself," Adel stated flatly as she sat opposite him with her long legs delicately crossed, a touch-pad cradled on her lap.

Rather than reprimand her comment, Cain found that her indifference was soothing. He took a few deep breaths to settle himself, stood up and stared out his penthouse office's panoramic window.

"Every time we get close to finding her, any lead we have dries up," Cain said, crossing his arms. "We're going have to start _again_...from scratch."

"I'm sorry, sir. I truly believed that our last lead was a good one. I hold myself personally responsible for this failure."

"No need for that," Cain chuckled. "You've always given me more than two-hundred percent."

"Are you in need of some...relaxation, sir?" she asked, the innuendo in her voice deliberate. His gaze shifted to look at her from his reflection on the window.

"Tempting, but not right now. Later tonight, perhaps, after we have dinner," Cain smiled, recently compelled to reward her services to him with lavish gifts and dinner dates.

"There's really no need to pamper me, sir. I'm more than happy to fulfill your wishes," Adel stated, setting aside her touch-pad.

"Call me, Neil."

"Sir?" Adel said in surprise.

"I insist," Cain said, turning around to face her. "You've been loyal to me for the past two years. I merely wish to show you my gratitude...and my trust."

"I'm truly flattered by your grand gesture, sir," Adel said with a smile. "But I sincerely believe it's in both our best interests to keep our relationship...professional."

"You're a rare woman indeed," Cain said proudly with a grin. "I daresay that others in your position would've taken full advantage of that gesture."

"I agree," she said in a matter-of-fact way.

"Now, if only I could put an end to the annoying problem of searching for my wretched half-sister. Frankly, if it wasn't for my mother's constant nagging, it would free up more of our time for other...more interesting pursuits."

"Unfortunately, the continued existence of your missing half-sister is the one major obstacle that prevents you from taking complete control of Tate International. To take ownership of both the biggest steel manufacturing company and the richest deposit of oil in Texas…"

"A dream that would make my mother _so_ proud, yes," Cain replied sourly.

"You don't share this dream?" Adel asked curiously.

"When I heard the idea at first, I thought that financial supremacy would be enough, but after the time and money I've spent chasing a ghost, I got a much better idea. Why should I devote all my energy into something so shortsighted?" Cain pointed out, a diabolical gleam in his eyes. "I'd rather skip the petty hostile takeovers and proceed directly to world domination."

"Which then brings us to the 'why' of hiring our two mad scientists?" Adel concluded with a slight lift to a perfectly plucked eyebrow.

"Exactly. Those two brainiacs came highly recommended and they have a long list of very satisfied clients. Eventually, myself included."

"Then I look forward to the day your plans - "

The penthouse office's solid double-doors of dense Sequoia wood unexpectedly flew apart, startling both Cain and Adel as they retreated deeper into the room.

"Do you know that it's _rude_ not to return my calls?" Silver Sablinova declared irately. The CEO of Silver Sable International, a firm renowned for its efficient, effective, and above all, exceptionally discreet methods in the private security sector, came angrily marching in. She was dressed in a pale-blue pantsuit with delicate embroidery; her ears, neck and wrists adorned with a multitude of glittering diamonds. She appeared ready for a formal gala rather than for everyday business dealings. "Let's make this quick, I have somewhere else I'd rather be."

"While we're on the subject of rudeness, your unannounced visit falls right into that category," Cain replied dryly.

"Spare me the repartee, Neil. I just want a simple answer to my question. What happened to the fee we agreed upon?" Sable asked, crossing her arms. "And, please, no lame excuses. You'll just be wasting the precious time we both have."

"I'm afraid certain conditions weren't met regarding my requirements," Cain stated.

Sable's aid, a slight young man who surreptitiously stood in the room with her, wordlessly moved to close the office's heavy wooden doors shut and bolted them, securing the entrance with a small device he placed on the floor. She noted Cain's secretary advancing subtly toward them.

"Don't be alarmed. That gadget functions as a sound-dampener. I don't want this conversation heard by anyone. Now, back to the issue between us," Sable said, casually adjusting one of her diamond bracelets. "I fail to see what the problem is. I shot Spiderman with those darts you gave me. One hit him in the thigh, I have witnesses to prove it and judging by the size of those needles, it must've hurt like a bitch." She smiled when images of the incident flitted through her mind. "So, I ask again. Where's the rest of the payment?"

"The serum in those darts I gave you were supposed to deliver Spiderman to me," Cain explained. "Since that didn't happen, I can only assume - "

"I never miss," Sable interrupted with finality. "And, to even imply that I might be lying, Neil, is unforgivably insulting."

"If I may speak?" Adel asked, looking first at her boss then at Ms. Sablinova.

"What?" Sable said impatiently after Cain nodded.

"Mr. Cain has withheld half of the payment because unfortunate circumstances, beyond yours or his control, yielded only _half_ the desired outcome of his request. He'll be contacting you soon for another try with a new and improved set of darts."

"These petty schoolyard business tactics are beneath me, Cain, though obviously not to you," Sable responded sourly. Her eyes simmered with anger and annoyance though her face remained calm. After a brief stare-down with Nibby the Nutcase - one of the unkind nicknames Cain was known by among his fellow business associates - she said, "Then we have nothing more to discuss. Keep your money. We're done here. Hire someone else to do the job."

Not bothering to see Cain's reaction, Sable Sablinova abruptly turned around, her aid already two steps ahead; concealing the gadget he'd placed on the floor earlier as he inclined his head, holding the office door open for her.

Remarkably, Cain remained silent as he watched Sable Sablinova swiftly exit his office, Adel's steady hold on his wrist delaying his outburst. Once the doors of the room were securely shut, he exploded with frustration, thrashing items within his reach.

Waiting patiently in a corner of the room, Adel approached her boss the minute he sat down heavily against his soft, leather recliner.

"We have alternatives, sir," she reassured him. "I have several contacts ready and awaiting your approval."

"Damn it. Sable's the best mercenary money can buy. Perhaps, we were too hasty - "

"Sir, you've made your decision," she interrupted evenly. "Sable Sablinova may be well-renowned among her peers, but she's not irreplaceable." A ringtone alerted her to a text message received on her cellphone. "Pardon me a moment." Retrieving her phone from her purse, she checked her inbox, the pleased look on her face catching Cain's attention. "It's a message from Dr. Halton. He and Dr. Nelson are in the final stages of a new formula and we can conduct another field test in a few days time."

"Well, at least we have some good news to offset the bad," Cain replied with a sigh, glancing at the destruction his tantrum had caused. "Reschedule the rest of my appointments for the day. I'd like to unwind, savor the tranquility of my mother's absence. Oh, and have I.T. send up a new computer for me."

Standing up, he loosened his tie, collecting his wallet and phone from a hidden safe behind a bookshelf. His first pitstop on his journey to relaxation: Marielle and Meriel, identical French twins who were his personal masseuses. Glancing toward Adel who'd already made herself at home behind his desk, he admired her appreciatively for a minute, then promptly left his office.

* * *

_It was the first anniversary of his father's death and Harry Osborn stared at the documents his father, Norman, had hidden away in a secured safe cleverly built into his desk. All the legal formalities regarding the estate, his father's assets and the transition of power as the new CEO of OsCorp were over. Although, meeting the corporation's Board of Directors gave him the distinct impression that many of its members didn't like the idea of an 'upstart punk' being in charge. Undaunted, he was confident that he'd change their opinion of him soon enough, showing them all that running a multibillion dollar corporation was automatically bred into him whether he liked it or not._

_The sudden loud crash of breaking glass made him gasp and he turn around, his eyes widening at the appearance of a bizarre reptilian man-monster in his new office!_

_Shit!_

_Whatever it was, it was ugly, and it was pissed!_

_Sprinting away from it and behind a wall, he saw an emergency fire axe on display in a glass case. Without hesitation, he took the axe and continued running, hoping to gain access to a phone or some way to get help. Though his heart hammered fiercely in his chest, Harry did his best not to panic, and even if the thing that chased him tried to cut him off from leaving the room, he bravely swung his axe, managing to wound it instead!_

_What the hell was that thing and why was it trying to kill him?_

_Darting as fast as his legs could carry him, he hid in the darkest section of his new office, unable to stop the nervous gasps that escaped his lips. Sure enough, the lizard-man heard him, and he correctly guessed that the thing hell-bent on killing him was also able to see in the dark. Hoping to hurt it again, he desperately swung the fire axe he held, only to have the creature knock it away from him as sharp talons painfully sliced up his left arm._

_Breathing heavily and holding onto his bleeding left arm, he stood trapped against an undamaged section of the plate glass windows of his office, but he stubbornly held his ground and waited for the thing's sharp claws to make the fatal swipe._

"_Hey, Scaley! Know where I can get a little tail?"_

_Looking up, and despite his dire situation, he was angered to see the arrival of the one freak he detested the most: Spiderman!_

_Compelled by the fury and hate boiling in his chest, he freed a fire extinguisher that was bolted to his wall, and with malevolent eagerness intended to use it against a distracted Spiderman who was locked in an intense battle with the weird reptilian intruder._

"_Spiderman…" he ground out. Despite the pain of his injure arm, he raised the tank above his head the minute the costumed freak backed into him._

"_Get out of here," Spiderman yelled, ignoring the fact that the very person he was there to save fully intended to ambush him with a fire extinguisher to crack his skull open._

"_Why are you helping me?" he yelled, wanting to know why the ruthless murderer of his father would bother helping him at all._

"_Go on! GO!" Spiderman insisted, turning around and exposing his back to him again._

_Despite wanting to carry out a small measure of revenge, he dropped the tank in his hands and ran, the immediate need to place some distance between him and the OsCorp building taking top priority._

_Wait. If I abandon the place now, I'm gonna look like a fucking coward, he thought angrily._

_Turning around, he marched back into his office, saw that Spiderman and the reptilian man-beast had taken their fight outside. He sat down on the carpeted floor and dialed 911._

"_Yes, police? We've got an emergency here!_

_As he tried to explain the nature of his emergency over the phone to local law enforcement, Harry Osborn peered out the jagged hole made through his penthouse office's plate glass window, and narrowing his eyes, stared irately at the retreating form of New York City's rogue, costumed menace._

_Later that evening, his friends Mj and Peter peeked in on him as he sat on the floor of his father's former office, staring blankly at the mess that surrounded him. The police and paramedics had long since left and he rubbed absently at his bandaged arm._

"_Harry?" Mj said cautiously._

"_You okay?" Peter asked with concern._

"_Yeah, I guess. No broken bones," he answered, getting to his feet._

"_Right…" Mj said softly. "I heard Spiderman was here."_

"_Yeah...he was here." He didn't feel at all like talking or even thinking about the weirdo right now._

_When Mj hugged him from behind and Peter came closer to lay a hand on his shoulder, he raised his arms in protest, rolling his eyes._

"_Okay, okay," he replied, shrugging them both off him. "Don't make me wish I had gone out the window." He felt Peter push him playfully off-balance._

"_We'll help you get through this," Peter said with a smile, just as Mj swooped in to kiss him on the cheek._

"_Whatever you need," Mj stated kindly and saw a flash of the old Harry she used to date._

_For a split second, Harry Osborn was overjoyed to have two friends who truly cared about him...but he needed some time alone. Not wanting to sound ungrateful, he replied back with a crooked smile, "What I really need is...for you two to go out and get me a pizza." _

_He was the worst liar in the world._

"_Lemme guess, you wanna be alone again," Peter said correctly as he and Mj exchanged knowing glances._

"_Mushroom and pepperoni would be nice. I'm buying."_

"_Well, in that case," Mj began with a grin._

_After more parting hugs and friendly kisses, Harry watched as his two best friends left him to be alone with himself, the pair more than happy with his generous contribution of a crisp one hundred-dollar bill to their personal dinner fund._

_Sighing, he methodically and solemnly picked up documents from the carpeted floor that were either torn or scattered as a result of the earlier intrusion. One particular file caught his attention, however, a file that he'd carefully created himself. He sat down heavily on the nearest piece of furniture, staring dejectedly at a newspaper clipping from the Daily Bugle that he'd evenly glued to the front of the file folder._

'_Spiderman Implicated in Billionaire Osborn's Death' the front page article's title read as a large photograph of his late father, one of the last few images taken before his mysterious death, was placed effectively below the big, bold letters._

_Feeling all his anger and resentment returning, Harry groaned in exasperation, slumping forward from where he sat as he buried his head in his hands._

* * *

Harry Osborn couldn't breathe and it felt like his heart had stopped beating.

Immediately, his lightheadedness morphed into a sickening feeling of nausea and he stumbled haphazardly to a corner of the room to repeatedly empty the contents of his stomach.

When the heaving finally stopped, he weakly brushed a badly trembling arm across his mouth with his sleeve, sluggishly crawling away from the mess he'd made on the floor to bonelessly lean against something cold and solid.

His mind was a tangled clamor and Harry feverishly wished that he'd gone completely numb and unconscious from the shock. Instead, he was wide awake with a kind of hypersensitivity, beleaguered by the painful stings and jabs from the merciless bombardment of his mental and emotional turmoil.

Against his will, Harry's pale-blue eyes wandered over to the gurney where the unconscious body of Spiderman lay recovering from injuries that were compounded by a mysterious affliction. As his eyes lingered there, the quaking of his own body steadily worsened, and when his gaze traveled higher, a flood of tears flowed down his cheeks, blurring the image of a face he desperately wanted to deny ever seeing. Gritting his teeth, Harry curled into a ball and wept with heaving sobs.

Outside the small operating room, Mary Jane Watson roamed the main hall like a zombie, repeatedly muttering in a soft jumble, "Gotta get in...have to get in…"

Down the hall, Cheyenne yawned and stretched, wanting to check on Harry before she retired for the evening, but when she spotted Mj ambling about in a daze, she quickly ran to her.

"Mj? Oh, honey, hold on now. You should be in bed," she remarked, gasping softly when she saw the incredibly distraught state of Harry's friend. "What's gotten into you, girl?"

"...Harry…"

Instantly alert, Cheyenne gripped Mj's arms, giving her a shake.

"What about, Harry?" she said worriedly, her eyes widening when she saw Mj's head slowly turning toward the operating room.

Sprinting toward the heavy doors, Cheyenne unlocked them with her access card and flung them open. What she saw inside made her gasp.

On the floor was Harry, bawling loudly, his painful wailing echoing inside the operating room.

"What in the..." Cheyenne started to question out loud, but her words failed her when she got her answer. A pair of discarded scissors lay on the floor near the gurney...along with the remains of Spiderman's mask. "Shit! Damn it, Harry..."

Accustomed to functioning in high pressure situations, Cheyenne did the first thing that needed to be done. Grabbing a light cloth, she draped it over Spiderman's exposed face. She knew it was vital to not have too many people, her included, knowing the man's true identity...at least, not for right now. Her own curiosity could wait. Harry needed her.

"It's okay, baby..." Cheyenne cooed softly as she cautiously approached him. "It's just Yen, honey."

She knelt down beside him and began rubbing his back, Harry leaning into her. Sitting beside him, she leaned against the cold metal cabinet behind her and placed his head on her lap, her fingers gliding through his hair.

A sharp gasp made her look up to see Mj at the threshold of the room.

"Sorry, my fault. Spiderman ain't dead. It's the best I could come up with," Cheyenne clarified with a shrug. "Unless you're carryin' around a spare mask for him..." Harry had calmed down somewhat, his body moving intermittently from his hitched breathing.

Visibly relieved, Mj approached the gurney with cautious steps. Bending down, she picked up the scissors from the floor and placed them on a nearby metal tray. Gazing down at Spiderman's shrouded face, she frowned slightly, tears trailing down her cheeks as she stood beside him.

Running footsteps were heard coming toward them from down the hall as Dr. Kilian Klein skidded to a halt inside the operating room.

"What are you all..." Dr. Klien's eyes widened at the scene before him.

"He ain't dead," Cheyenne declared again. "But his mask's been cut off."

"I see..." Dr. Klein replied. "What now? I don't advise physically moving him anywhere for at least forty-eight hours."

"Got a private room you can spare?" she asked.

"I do..."

"I'll pay the fucking bill, Lian, just get me that room," Cheyenne said irritably. "Also, the people you used to operate on him are off limits."

"That won't be a problem. Every member of my medical staff knows the importance of absolute privacy. Besides, they've all gone home, and my day staff hasn't seen him before."

"Perfect," Cheyenne said with a smile. "Lian, get that room ready so we can wheel him in there, then we'll have him admitted as a new patient. That way, anyone curious about Spiderman's identity will think he's left the building."

"That'll work," Dr. Klein smiled back with a nod. "I'll let you know when the room's ready."

"Lian?" Cheyenne called out just as Dr. Klein turned around.

"Yeah?" His well-trimmed, dark blond head swiveled to look at her sitting on the floor, Harry Osborn's head cradled on her lap.

"Soon as we get Spiderman settled in, you gotta get your cleaning staff in here pronto to totally disinfect this room. Harry, uh, made a bit of a mess in the corner over there." She stifled a smile when Dr. Klein grimaced in reaction as he went to investigate. "One other thing...the Off Limits rule? That applies to you too."

After a wordless exchange that pitted him against Cheyenne's rigid stare, Dr. Klein sighed.

"Fine. I'll get Dr. Rosalie Zhen to fill in for me. She's my second-in-command these days. I'll make sure to omit any mention of Spiderman's...other complications on his chart. You can fill in the rest of his paperwork. As far as Rosalie's concerned, her new arrival needed to be transferred to someplace safe and she'll be treating him for what he came in with, a rebar stab wound through the gut. I'll take care of it."

"Thanks, Lian. Seems I owe you big for this one," Cheyenne said with a wink.

"Wait till you see what I've got in mind," Dr. Klein said cryptically, just before he left the room.

"Hmnh," Cheyenne grunted softly, rolling her eyes. From long association, she already guessed what Dr. Klein wanted her to do, and stealing a priceless artifact from the Smithsonian was her first choice. Unconcerned of the payback, she closed her eyes, deciding on a cat-nap while she waited.

* * *

"...Cheyenne?"

Jerking awake, she turned toward the source of the voice. She also noted that she wasn't on the floor of the operating room and was laying on a couch in what appeared to be Klein's office.

"...what..."

"Harry requested that we let you sleep," Dr. Klein said softly, kneeling beside her. "I couldn't leave you napping on the floor either since I got a cleaning crew working overtime to get that operating room ready again. Rosalie's due in the next half-hour and I've got all the paperwork ready." He strolled to his desk and tossed her a large, yellow, Inter-Department envelope with a string-and-button closure. "Transfer and admittance documents are ready to go, just needs the new patient's information. Young Mr. Osborn's pledged a generous amount to this facility, something that I've taken into account while I was thinking about what I'd like you to do for me."

Crossing his arms, Dr. Klein leaned against his desk with a sly smile.

"Sorry, Lian. I'm all hot for Harry these days, so that door's permanently closed," Cheyenne stated with a grin, sitting up and lounging against the leather couch.

"Odd choice, even for you," Dr. Klein said skeptically. "Sure, he's a young heir who just inherited OsCorp Industries, one of the largest weapons manufacturers in the world, but..."

"_But_? You questioning my choices now?" she said with mock outrage. "If we're debatin' age here, you're a little too old for me, anyway."

"That's below the belt..." Dr. Klein muttered as Cheyenne laughed.

"Last I recall, for a thirty-plus guy, you can outlast a teenager any day," she commented and laughed again when Dr. Klein blushed in response.

"Yes...well..." he said, a bit flustered, loudly clearing his throat. "At any rate, here." He threw her something, watching her catch it with minimal movement as he went to sit behind his desk.

"Jango Fett, huh?" Cheyenne said, leaving the couch and lifting a brow as she stared at the custom flash drive in her palm. "Pegged you more for a Mace Windu."

"Get out."

* * *

Inside the private suite allotted to Spiderman and his friends, Harry and Mj sat on a couch in a far corner of the room, the pair stubbornly trying to avoid looking in the direction of the bed's occupant.

"How you holding up?" Mj rasped softly, her eyes still puffy from crying.

"Dunno...same as you, I guess," Harry shrugged with a sigh, feeling like he'd been run over by a car several times. His face was red and swollen, his throat was sore, but above all, he was afraid that his inner turmoil might drive him crazy. "This'll land me in therapy for years."

"Well, _I_ can't afford it so I'll just have to deal..." Mj groused. After a slight pause, Harry snickered.

The pair were locked in a bout of uncontrollable hysteria when they heard a loud rap at the entrance of the suite.

"Harry? Mj? You guys okay in there?" Cheyenne's muffled voice called out from the hall.

"I got this," Harry said softly, squeezing Mj's shoulder as he went to fetch her. "Come on in." She hesitated by the open doorway.

"I don't think that's a good idea - "

"Get in here," Harry said, pulling a reluctant Cheyenne into the suite but she refused to move past the section of wall by the door. "Considering how much you've done to help the three of us recently, Yen, it's phenomenally selfish not to include you in this...thing." He shifted on his feet, still uncomfortable himself about what was happening. "I mean...you're...practically family..." He mumbled the last bit and stared at the floor.

Taken aback, she said, "...are you..."

A loud groan startled them and Harry's head whipped toward the bed.

"C'mon, Yen. I'll...introduce you to...um...Spiderman," Harry said meekly, taking Cheyenne by the hand and leading her further into the suite. She stopped, took a dramatic deep breath just before she turned the corner.

(In hindsight, the significance of Harry's words regarding his and Mj's familiarity with Spiderman's true identity were lost to her in the heat of the moment.)

Feeling rather nervous, Cheyenne kept her eyes away from New York's unmasked superhero until the last possible moment. Mj stood beside her and held her other hand as she slowly lifted her vivid, violet eyes to finally get a good look at the man behind the moves, the muscles, the swagger...and the spandex.

There was a long moment of tense silence as Cheyenne stood rigid, her expressionless face studying the young man on the bed before her.

When she finally moved, she shook her head slowly from side to side, uttering a loud exclamation.

"Are you kidding me? Aw, hell, no!"

* * *

to be continued

* * *

**Correspondence:**

_Anon wrote:_

_A wonderful, wonderful story._

_The most amazing part to me is how you really capture how the characters talk in the tv show. Very quippy, lots of banter. You could leave off who's saying a line, and I could identify it based on how well you capture each character's voice. _

_I'm glad you're including Cheyenne-she's hilarious and I always felt awful for Harry._

_Also love that Peter seems to have feelings for both mj and Indy. Hehe_

_And then of course the whole secret identity with spidey's life in the balance thing. I love you for this. This is really the perfect plot for a fic based off this tv show. All that Harry hating spidery tension comes out in this, as Harry realizes... Whoa! _

_You've really left us on quite the cliffhanger, but I maintain hope that you will come back from your hiatus and conclude this story brilliantly. The quality of your writing demands no less!_

_Sincerely,_

_:)_

Dear Anon:

Thank you, thank you so much! I'm so flattered. *humbly bows*

And the gold medal goes to Cheyenne for most of the banter. xD

I love this animated series and I truly wish they'd continued it. It's a fresh format and the best Spiderman animated show out there.

Cheyenne's the main reason this story got hatched. Wanted to explore, in my own way, how she fits into Peter's group, and I liked how cute she and Harry were together. ;D

Peter's complicated feelings for both Mj and Indy will eventually sort themselves out.

Dun, dun, dun. Spidey's identity's been revealed...but at least it's just to a select group instead of a press conference in front of the whole world. (Marvel comics)

I'm so happy you're enjoying this story and I appreciate your patience.

Sincerely,

Kemi

…

To bookwormrdd,

Sorry for the long waits between chapters.

Hope this new chapter satisfies you for the time being.

;D

-Kemi

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Harry Osborn's flashback courtesy of a scene from MTV 'Spider-man the Animated Series' entitled 'Law of the Jungle.'

Hope this chapter kinda eases the nasty cliff-hanger that I left my faithful readers with.

LOL. I personally love Cheyenne's reaction in the end. xD

A special shout-out of awesomeness to those readers who left me notes in the last chapter! (Battosailover5, Alice Rose Winter, Sleeping Fanatic, hedi, Indiana Joanna, bookwormrdd, Starscream'sAngel, Sappho's Cat, Fan Girl, CrunchbiteNuva, MidnightMoon101, Spidey Fan and Zaap!)

I deeply appreciate everyone's patience and continued support!

(^_^)


	9. Fever Dream

**Unmasking a Superhero: Chapter 09 - Fever Dream**

"So...our Petey's...Spiderman..." Mj said softly, staring ahead of her in a daze.

"Yeah..." Harry said flatly, looking at the floor.

The minute a room was available at the private hospital facility, Cheyenne aka the cat-burglar Talon and Dr. Kilian Klein, head physician and founder of the medical establishment, personally wheeled Spiderman's bed into the single occupant only suite, the superhero's identity concealed under a cloth that was draped over his face. Behind them, Harry Osborn and Mary Jane Watson, followed closely at a measured pace, the pair still unable to accept that New York City's costumed super-freak and the shy genius they grew up with were the same person!

"Thanks for the help, Lian," Cheyenne said as she escorted the doctor to the suite's door.

"You owe me one," Dr. Klein replied with a wink and left to attend to the operating room's hasty cleanup.

Standing at the room's threshold, Cheyenne stopped Harry by snagging his arm as he walked passed.

"I'm gonna go and study Spidey's latest blood sample, see if the new serum we're usin' is workin'," Cheyenne informed him. "This place's got a tricked-out lab upstairs. Should do me fine till Spandex get's strong enough to move back into my condo."

"Okay..." he answered softly.

"Listen," she added, placing her hands against his cheeks. "I can't even begin to imagine what you and Mj must be goin' through right now...but you two gotta do your best to keep it together. Fallin' apart won't do anyone any good, especially for Peter in there. Ya hear me?"

"I hear you..." he replied with a nod.

Melting into Cheyenne's embrace, Harry nearly refused let go when they parted. Leaning into her gentle caress of his cheeks, they shared a long, deep kiss.

"I'll see you later, baby. You and Mj gotta try to get some rest."

"We'll try," Harry said softly with a small smile. He stayed by the door and watched Cheyenne depart down the corridor, chasing down the first available elevator. Sighing heavily, he closed the private suite's door and leaned heavily against it, his legs unable to move a step further into the room. He would've stayed comfortably rooted to the spot if it wasn't for Mj checking up on him.

"Wanna sit down?" Mj asked softly, pointing to a large, navy-blue couch that was placed against a wall that, unfortunately, faced the bed.

The pair sat down, each resolutely avoiding to look at the bed's occupant.

"Oh, God, Harry..." Mj moaned. She desperately tried her best not to cry but found it impossible.

His own eyes already filled with tears, Harry embraced Mj tightly and felt her shaking.

"If...if Petey's Spiderman...then that means...oh, God..." Mj said, hitching on a sob. She couldn't bring herself to say the words.

Still embracing Mj, Harry's hands tightened into fists.

"I know..." he answered hoarsely, tears spilling down his cheeks. "Whatever happened...Peter must've had..." He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to remain calm. "...whatever the reason...he'll tell us when we're ready to hear it."

* * *

"...take it easy..."

"Don't move...hurt yourself..."

"Sssshhh..."

"...it's me. Can't you..."

"...Pete?"

Words, voices.

None of it made sense.

More jumbled words and muffled voices...then blessed silence.

He welcomed the silence, it was peaceful.

But the stillness stretched on...and on...and _on_...

His measure of peacefulness was replaced by the overwhelming feeling of helplessness...

...the terror of abandonment and the horror of being _alone_.

He was buried alive in a grave...and forgotten.

No one heard him clawing to free himself from whatever he was buried in.

Clawing till the flesh of his fingers were numb, worn and bloodied to the bone.

He screamed again, yet to his horror...his scream was silent!

His scream was _silent_.

* * *

If not for Cheyenne's quick reflexes in administering a powerful sedative, they would've all been in trouble.

"The hell's wrong with him, Yen?" Harry said out loud in confusion and worry. He and Mj had decided to lock away whatever conflicting emotions they felt about Spiderman in the back of their minds, that way, they could better concentrate on making sure their friend Peter made it through the worst of his injuries.

"He's _really_ burning up," Mj remarked. It both amazed and frightened her to feel how hot Peter's skin was to the touch.

"I'm gonna need another blood sample," Cheyenne said determinedly.

"Yen, what you need is sleep. You've been working nonstop for the last twenty-four hours - "

"You want me to take a nap while your best friend's dyin' Harry?" she said in outrage.

"No...I didn't mean - "

"Save it. Plenty o' time for me to sleep when I've found a formula to stabilize him," she argued as she carefully drew Peter's blood into a syringe. "You two watch him. If he so much as twitches, you call me, ya hear? Be back in a sec."

Feeling wretchedly helpless, Harry watched Cheyenne swiftly leave the suite.

"I hate this!" he yelled out, startling Mj. "She's right! Pete's dying and I can't do a damn thing to help!" He nearly threw the ugly plastic chair beside the bed in frustration.

"We're each doing what we can," Mj said quietly with tears in her eyes as she stood by Peter's bedside, holding tightly to his hand.

* * *

Dr. Rosalie Zhen had been regularly visiting to check up on her new arrival and although the puncture wound through his abdomen was healing well, the strange complexity of her patient's illness was beginning to bother her. Her superior, Dr. Kilian Klein, had told her explicitly not to pursue further investigation into her new patient's case, but her oath as a doctor was making it very difficult. It was a complicated situation, knowing the nature of the facility that she worked in and its founder's motto being: 'The Best Medical Care to the Highest Bidder.'

She hadn't realized she'd paused in the middle of the hallway and was nearly plowed down by a young woman who was part of the group attending to her new patient in suite number eleven.

"Excuse me. Cheyenne, is it?" Dr. Zhen asked, attempting to stop the young woman for a brief chat.

"Sorry, doc. Gotta run," she replied curtly without breaking stride.

Puzzled, she saw the young woman dart into an elevator. After waiting to see which floor the car had stopped, she followed the young woman to the same floor. As the metal doors slid open, Dr. Zhen quietly walked down the sixth floor's main hall to their building's laboratory. Peering thorough the small, glass panes of the lab's secured entry doors, she was surprised to see the young woman tinkering with their equipment. She was about to inform security when she saw Dr. Klein inside the lab room with her. After a few minutes of watching them together, it was clear that they were friends from long association...which meant that whoever they were treating in suite eleven was a special favor. Sighing, Rosalie decided that her personally getting involved would simply earn her a reprimand. It would be more prudent to hold her questions for Dr. Klein until after her patient had fully recovered.

* * *

Inside the laboratory, Dr. Klein glanced with concern at Cheyenne Abrams as she examined several slides under a microscope.

"Shy, you're exhausted…"

"Of course, I am!" Cheyenne exploded. "But I'm the only person here who has any hope of savin' - !" Clenching her fists in frustration, she banged them against a table, bowing her head as she started to laugh. "Will ya look at me? Gettin' all messed up over…well, damn...how'd I end up like this?"

"Welcome to the wonderful world of human relationships," Dr. Klein grinned.

"Oh, shut up," she said with a smile. "Okay, let's backtrack. What am I missin' here?"

In suite eleven, Harry and Mj were getting frantic with worry. Peter's sweat-soaked skin began looking flushed as the temperature of his fever slowly rose to potentially fatal levels. Harry debated whether to call and interrupt Cheyenne's work in the lab with their anxiety.

"We'll wait another ten minutes," Harry said as he made tracks in the carpet with his pacing. He watched Mj nod quietly, leaving to replace the melted ice packets she'd been placing on Peter's head, neck and chest in an attempt to cool him down. "His fever isn't natural…"

"_None_ of this natural," Mj muttered angrily as she rooted through the fridge's freezer in the suite's kitchenette. "This whole time, our Peter, the guy we both supposedly knew and grew up with since freshman high...wasn't even _close_ to normal!" She fought back tears as she walked back to the bed where Peter lay, distributing the frozen packets on his body. "It's kinda funny though...this whole _mess_..." She glanced at Peter and sighed. "It explains all the weirdness that's been happening right under our noses."

There was a long moment of contemplative silence.

"Peter told me something...when I spoke to him during that fifteen-minute window..." He cleared his throat and fidgeted. "...when I asked them to wake him up."

"Gee, how could I forget that one," Mj declared icily, glaring at Harry.

"Fair enough. I deserve that," Harry replied with a sigh, pacing a few steps and ruffling his hair. "Y'see...Peter told me...of course, I didn't know what it _meant_ at the time...he said that...he wasn't born with superpowers." His brows furrowed. "That he got them by accident on a school trip." He and Mj stared at each other in complete confusion.

A shrill chime from Harry's expensive Tissot watch made them both jerk in surprise.

"That's it, I'm calling - "

"I got it!" Cheyenne sprang through the suite's door with a grin, quickly replacing one of Peter's hanging I.V. pouches with a bag containing an oddly rose-colored liquid. "Damn, this boy's one tricky sunnuvabitch." She walked over to the room's couch and plopped down tiredly onto it. "I never could back down from a challenge."

"Harry, look," Mj whispered in astonishment as she watched Peter's skin color visibly returning to normal.

"Holy Shit, that was quick," he said with widened eyes.

"Huh. Good to know I finally did somethin' right," Cheyenne said with yawn, slumping back on the couch. "Wake me in an hour."

* * *

Please, please, _please_, someone...anyone...let him out!

Close to panicking, Peter tried pushing at the invisible walls that surrounded him with all his might but he felt as helpless as a scientific specimen trapped in a glass case.

Where was his strength? Why was it failing him now of all times, when he needed it the most?

Banging on the invisible walls of his prison with frustration, he sank to his knees. After seemingly endless minutes of desperate pleading to no one in particular...

...he was suddenly set free.

Taking deep, trembling breaths, relief washed over him. He wasn't remotely claustrophobic, but being trapped in a space that felt no bigger than a broom closet would inevitably get to anyone.

That's when he noticed how eerily empty and silent his surroundings really were.

The darkness that shrouded everything made it impossible to find his bearings and the absence of any noise, excluding his breathing and heartbeat, was enormously disorienting.

Looking frantically in every direction, he finally caught sight of a faint light from...was that a lamp post? Stumbling toward it, he got as close as he could to the soft point of light until he stopped for a rest.

Why was he so tired? His physical stamina usually lasted ten times longer than this chasing bad guys, and he wasn't even exerting himself.

It was almost as if...he'd reverted to his old, plain, ordinary self again. Back to the way his body had been before he became...was that even possible anymore?

Where _was_ he, anyway? Turning in place, Peter noticed that he was surrounded by a perimeter of pitch blackness that he couldn't see past with his naked eyes, the candle-like illumination from the eerie street lamps above him were his only guide.

Also, what bothered him the most was the persistence of a nearly complete lack of sound. All he heard was the rush of air through his nose as the pounding of his heart echoed loudly in this eardrums. His footsteps were so silent that he had to constantly look down just to assure himself that he was still walking on solid ground.

As he shuffled warily along the empty street, the faint lights above followed him, herding him towards an area just a few yards away; the remains of a crumbling building. Standing beside the ruined structure, he had an odd feeling of recognition...like he'd been there before...that he was supposed to know something about this place he'd been led to. As he stepped closer to the ruined building, he carefully combed through his memories for clues.

"Hello, Peter," said a voice less than a foot behind him.

Yelping in shock, Peter spun around too fast, tripping on himself and falling hard on his backside. "Ow!"

Not only was he shocked about the identity of the person who called his name, it was even _more_ shocking for him to be...clumsy and uncoordinated. There was another thing that disturbed him...why hadn't that familiar buzz from the base of his skull warn him that there was someone standing behind him?

A pair of impeccably shiny, patent leather loafers took a step forward into his personal space, and as Peter's eyes rose higher from being sprawled on the pavement, they met perfectly pressed dark-grey chinos, a long-sleeved dark-blue Gingham shirt neatly folded up to the elbows...and higher still, his hazel eyes widening as he stared at the face of a man he thought he'd never see again.

Yelping a second time, he backpedaled in reaction.

"Easy, easy, Peter. I'm not gonna hurt you," the man said with a warm smile.

"...Mister...Mister Osborn?" Peter dared to say the name out loud. For a dead man, Harry's father looked strangely warm and casual, much like the way he'd known Mr. Osborn when he was alive.

"Need a hand up?" the dead man asked, bending over slightly and extending his right arm.

Peter's mouth slackened and he froze in place, unsure what to do, his mind and body overrun by an astonishing feeling of déjà vu.

"C'mon, now, upsy-daisy," Mr. Osborn said with a chuckle as he helped the gaping young man to his feet. "Walk with me, Peter. I can't stay long."

As the pair ambled along, Peter strolled uneasily beside Norman Osborn, a man whose death he was solely responsible for. Despite how 'alive' the dead man appeared, the unnaturally cold temperature of Mr. Osborn's touch when he'd helped him up, made him shiver.

"Stop blaming yourself. You did what had to be done," Mr. Osborn said kindly, pausing to turn.

He did his best, tried _very hard_ not to recoil with dread when Norman Osborn placed his cold hands firmly on his shoulders, the dead man's eyes steadily gazing at him.

Unbearable guilt and regret pooled in Peter's chest, making him look away, his body shuddering in reaction to Mr. Osborn's stare. The dead man's eyes seemed to draw him in...showing him a vision of himself standing at the edge of a freshly dug grave as he fearfully peered down into the shadows, terrified of what he might find at the bottom.

"I'm being punished, aren't I? That's why I feel this way. Why I feel so...normal," Peter replied wretchedly. "Whatever cosmic accident allowed me to have superpowers...it's decided to take it back."

"Nope. It's all in your head. You're punishing yourself," Mr. Osborn stated calmly.

"How...how can you be so...so - I _murdered_ you!" Peter blurted out.

"You killed the Goblin that night, not me. The man you knew, the self-absorbed business tycoon, the man who was Harry's pathetic father, died the minute he made the decision to use his own body as a guinea pig for a virtually untested, experimental procedure," Mr. Osborn explained as the pair resumed a lazy saunter down the empty street. "Stop beating yourself over the head about it. You saved many innocent lives from my murderous rampage that day, and I realize that it must've been one of the hardest decisions you ever made in your life. You're a good man, Peter."

"I try to be," he answered sadly in a raspy whisper. "I just wish I'd..."

"Well, time's up," Mr. Osborn suddenly stated with a smile, glancing at his watch. "I gotta get going." His walking sped to a jog.

"But..." Peter sprinted to catch up. "Wait! Mr. Osborn, where are you - "

"You've grown into a fine, brave man, Peter."

The hauntingly familiar voice made him skid to a halt as his skin went pale, his body going weak and sluggish. Tears filled his eyes as he forced his heavy limbs to turn around...and at the edge of the visible road stood a man under the brightness of an overhead streetlamp; the lamp's radiance creating a halo of light around the man's entire body.

"...Un...Uncle...Ben...?" he could barely get the words past his lips.

"We don't blame you, Peter," Ben Parker repeated warmly with a gentle smile. "So, stop blaming yourself."

* * *

_The Green Goblin was a tough opponent, a seasoned fighter who was able to predict his next move before he made it. Bloodied and battered, Peter Parker stared up at the costumed super-villain from the rubble of their surroundings, his hand painfully pinned down by the Goblin's green, armored boot._

"_You've spun your last web, Spiderman," Green Goblin gloated as he loomed over a young man in a tattered costume, New York's self-appointed superhero. "Had you not been so selfish, you're little girlfriend's death would have been quick and painless, but now that you've really pissed me off, I'm gonna finish her nice and slow."_

_In an instant, all doubt, helplessness and fear left Peter, his primary concern and determination now entirely focused on keeping the evil Green Goblin from carrying out his threat. Calm and composed, he slowly rose to his feet, his eyes staring unblinkingly at the ruthless monster before him, his mind and heart unified by a singular, primal emotion: anger. _

"_Mj and I? We're gonna have a helluva time," the Green Goblin continued to taunt, unaware of the rage boiling within his opponent._

_With his newfound strength fueled by a selfless need to protect Mj from harm, Peter surrendered to his fury and fought back the Green Goblin, quickly gaining the upper hand. Whatever injuries were given to him, he repaid his enemy back tenfold._

"_Peter, stop! Stop! It's me."_

_Like the incantation for a magic spell, the words froze Peter in place. At that moment, he saw how far his anger had taken him. His actions had been a blur...and it shook him to the core when he realized that the dark desire to kill had completely overshadowed his anger. He'd turned into the very monster he sought to stop._

"_...Mister Osborn?" Peter said slowly in disbelief when the Green Goblin removed his helmet._

"_Peter...thank God for you…" Mr. Osborn said with relief._

"_...you killed those people on that balcony…" Peter added. He felt numb, trapped in a twisted nightmare that he desperately wished to wake up from._

"_The Goblin killed them! I had nothing to do with it," Mr. Osborn begged desperately. "Don't! Don't let him take me again! I beg you...protect me!"_

"_You...tried to kill Aunt May, you tired to kill Mary Jane…"_

"_...but not you! I tried to stop it...I couldn't stop it. I would never hurt you," he reasoned. However, as he spoke, the fingers of his left hand moved to carefully press a button on his right glove, secretly summoning his glider. Silently, it rose from the ground, its weapons aimed directly for Spiderman's back. "I knew from the beginning, if anything ever happened to me...it was you that I could count on. You, Peter Parker, would save me and so you have. Thank God for you." He slowly tried to stand, reaching out his hand. "Give me your hand. Believe in me...as I believed in you. I've been like a father to you...be a son to me now."_

_Mr. Osborn's words cut through him like a jagged knife. If his best friend had somehow been there as a witness...the words that were spoken would've torn Harry's heart and mind to pieces! Although a part of Peter knew that the man before him was telling the truth, his spider-sense warned him of the lie that was unfolding. He was being distracted. The Goblin was appealing to the compassion he felt for Harry's father, hoping to exploit it as a weakness._

"_I have a father. His name was Ben Parker."_

"_Godspeed, Spiderman."_

_Guided by his superhuman abilities in what took only seconds, Peter leapt out of the way when the Goblin's sled sped toward him from behind. He watched in horror as the sharp blades of the metal sled struck the Goblin...no...Harry's father...pinning the man's body to the brick wall behind him._

_Mr. Osborn yelled out in agony and slumped forward but his arms propped him up, almost as if he was using the remainder of his strength in defiance. Instead of the voice of the Goblin that he expected, he heard Mr. Osborn's dying request._

"_...Peter...don't tell Harry…"_

* * *

Peter Parker woke up with a jerk, struggling to breath.

Immediately, a clear plastic mask was placed over his nose and mouth as he greedily inhaled the fresh oxygen.

"Whoa, there! Slow down, cowboy. Not so fast or you'll blow up," a young man's voice said with a chuckle.

Sharp, unpleasant whispering followed but he was too disoriented to understand what they were saying.

"Petey, it's Mj. You're gonna be fine. Your fever's finally broken."

Fever? He had a fever?

"That's it. Slow, steady breaths."

"His vitals look better."

"Petey, come on now, come back to us." A pause. "What? Sorry, Petey, I didn't hear that. Can you say it again?"

"Damn, girl, the boy just woke up. Give him some space," a woman said with a laugh.

"Yo, Pete, we're aging here. Snap out of it already," a young man's voice said impatiently.

"You two are supposed to be his best friends?" the laughing woman retorted.

Colors swirled and collided as his vision tried to focus itself. Soon, he saw blurry faces looming on either side of him. Blinking rapidly, he tried to speed along the process.

"Hey, Petey. Welcome back."

"...Mary Jane..."

"I'm here," Mj replied, holding tightly to his hand. Her smile spread brilliantly across her face when his hand squeezed back. "You really scared us for a while there."

Laying on an elevated hospital bed, Peter slowly turned his head to get his bearings, his eyes glancing at the room's bland decor and sparse furniture. Thankfully, he'd been relocated to his own private suite and not left to convalesce inside an operating room.

Wait.

His mind screeched to a halt.

Something was horribly _wrong_.

Cautiously, he raised his arms as his fingers hesitantly touched his face.

His face!

His _bare_ _skin_.

Where the hell was his mask?!

When the magnitude of his situation hit him like a comet, Peter Parker's hazel eyes were the size of small espresso saucers as he gaped at each of his friends' faces and - oh, shit - Cheyenne was there too!

This couldn't be happening...

This couldn't be real!

No no no no NO.

Oh, Good God, no...

* * *

Silver Sable sat behind her polished glass and silver desk facing an enormously framed, transparent screen that hung down from the celling of her office, easily retractable into a concealed compartment when not in use. On it's near-invisible surface were the vivid images of four men, each of them with distinct physical features and specialized areas of expertise that comprised her small, core team of elite comrades, her 'Wild Pack.'

"That idiot's got some nerve, Sabe, shortchanging you like that," Rex Stanton said with a frown, molding a piece of C-4 in his hands into the shape of a miniature raptor. He was a tall, stocky, well-muscled man of Tongan descent, his buzzed hair was cut in a tribal pattern, his squarish face had a trimmed shadow and big brown eyes, his deeply tanned skin showed off many visible scars. "Just say the word and I'll make sure he loses something he'll _really_ miss."

"Very tempting, Rex, but I'll pass. The little prick's not worth it," she replied, twirling a silver-plated Makarov PMM pistol with a custom-molded hand grip and extended magazine. She leaned against her white high-back leather recliner, tilting it sixty degrees as she tossed her silver gun high above her head and caught it, twirling it again several times like a toy, her index finger threaded through its trigger guard.

"What's next on our agenda, boss?" Bert Hamlisch asked in a cultured British accent. His fingers were heard busily typing away on a keyboard off-camera, several computer monitors filled with information behind him, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips. His green eyes constantly flitted between his conversation with Sable and whatever he was doing, his long, dread-blond hair tied back by a piece of black electrical cord, the features of his oval-shaped face were Indian, but his skin, Caucasian pale. Needless to say, his exotic appearance was a constant wonder to many who saw him. "Itching for some action here."

"Oh, yeah, just a quick head's up, guys. A shipment of experimental Para-Ordnance compacts are coming in tomorrow," Rob Harold announced gleefully. Born in Germany to a Korean mother, his roundish fair-skinned face sported a brilliant smile as he tucked a strand of shoulder-length black hair behind his ear. Blinking his mismatched irises - right eye is blue, left is brown - his eyes gleamed mischievously as he rubbed his hands together excitedly. "Oh, yes, come to papa."

"Send me a sample, Rob. I'd like to see one for myself," Sable replied as Harold nodded. "As for new assignments, I have a few lined up."

"By the way, how'd you like your new Humvee?" Alex Renoir said with a grin, juggling small engine parts in his hands. A mix of Finnish and French, the handsome man had a heart-shaped face with an asymmetrical haircut, the long strands of his blue-streaked dark hair fell over a pair of wolfish, ice-blue eyes.

"Not bad. Most of all, I _love_ what you boys did to the paint job," Sable said dryly while her colleagues laughed. She fiddled with the lapel of her white, leather sport-coat. "A Malibu Barbie theme, is it?"

"You said you wanted it 'unique' right?" Bert snickered.

"Man, what I'd give to have seen the look on your face," Rob stated with a chortle.

"Toss me five-hundred thousand pounds and the footage is yours," Bert grinned, waving a flash drive in his left hand.

"All right, I admit, you fellas have outdone yourselves this time," Sable replied, rolling her eyes when three of them cheered. It had somehow turned into a tradition, her Wild Pack bravely pranking her on certain occasions. "Allow me then...to show you boys my appreciation."

Winking suggestively at them, Sable stood up and pushed the 'play' button on her table's touch console, the song 'Ohh La La' by Goldfrapp blaring loudly through the hidden speaker system in her office. Pushing her chair back, she began dancing provocatively to the music, unbuckling the belt of her formfitting leather sport-coat. Reaching behind her head to remove the tie from her long, silver hair, the strands tumbled free and framed her heart-shaped face. She noted that her four colleagues had gone silent and were staring in rapt fascination and open disbelief at her.

Stifling a triumphant grin, she turned her back to them, dramatically removing her white, leather sport-coat and revealing a semitransparent, beautifully provocative lingerie ensemble, each piece intricately decorated with silver thread, the look complemented by shimmering, pale stockings.

Without turning around to see their faces, she heard sharp gasps and curse words in response to her unexpected striptease. Keeping her back to them, she sashayed up to her desk and picked up the silver pistol she'd been playing with earlier.

"You boys like what you see?" Sable purred, turning to her side and gliding the gun down the front profile of her body. Puckering her lips, she twisted to look over her shoulder. When murmurs, whistles and whoops of approval sounded over the comm-line, she hooked the barrel of the silver pistol behind the front clasp of her bra and grinned diabolically, "Sleep well, boys."

The video feed from her office ended abruptly as a pull from the gun broke her bra's clasp and Sable laughed with mirthful abandon as she lay sprawled on top of her desk.

"I win," she whispered out loud to nobody in particular as she closed her eyes with a satisfied smile; the large, transparent screen in the room automatically disappearing from view.

After a few minutes of meditative silence, she heard the whirr of a chopper grow louder as it flew by her building. She sat up, glancing at the security schematics from her desk's integrated monitor and saw that an intruder alarm had been tripped on the roof. Ignoring it, she took the silver pistol beside her and began twirling it again, just as the double doors of her office flew open.

A bit winded, Rex Stanton said with a grin, "That's gotta be my new record."

"Took you long enough," Sable replied with a lick of her lips.

As she stood up to 'greet' her guest, Sable's integrated desk computer received incoming encrypted information from a secured outside source. Once the entire file had been downloaded, a program began automatically unscrambling the coded message. Words and numbers scrolled up the screen along with several pictures from people of interest. The most common images belonged to business tycoon, Neil Nibori Cain, his mother, Jia Wong-Cain as well as the faces of both Cain's currently employed consultants, Dr. Robert Halton and Dr. Eric Nelson.

* * *

to be continued

* * *

**Correspondence**:

_WitchbladeHell -_

_OMG! Omg, omg, omg, omg, omg!_

_An update! Whooooo thank you!_

_I missed this story so much!_

Dear WitchbladeHell -

Me too! Me too!

I missed writing this story and I feel really bad for long waits between updates.

Trying my best these days to remedy that. ;D

Glad you're enjoying the story so far!

Take care!

…

_Red Tigger -_

_I love this story! It is great update soon, Please!_

_R.T. 13_

Dear Tigger -

I thanks you!

Writing the next chapter as we speak!

Take care!

…

_JessiCat113 - _

_OMG. I LOVE this story... The banter is the best I've seen so far as Spidey stories go on this site. The characters' mannerisms are perfect, and the unmasking was absolutely shocking! Loved Cheyenne's reaction, as well as Harry's. Before reading this, I had never seen this series... I am now a huge fan. Thx for that!_

Dear JessiCat113 -

Thought I'd write you a reply here then.

Truly touched and humbled by your words, I am. :D

The series itself has lots of funny banter and I'm trying to continue that tradition in this story. As for the unmasking of Spiderman...I say, never leave him unconscious and alone in a room with Harry and a pair of scissors.

Luckily, fans (new and old) of the animated Spider-man series can still find the episodes on youtube! (yay!)

Take care!

* * *

**Author's Note**:

The Green Goblin scene is courtesy of the movie 'Spider-man' (2002).

I think the full title of this awesome series my story is based on (that sadly made only 13 episodes) is 'Spider-man, The New Animated Series.' (released 2003) Interestingly enough, the movie 'The Amazing Spiderman' that's out now, looks exactly like a live-aciton version of this animated series! (but I haven't seen the movie yet, so no spoilers, please!)

For anyone wanting more on Cheyenne, go to youtube and search for the episode entitled 'Keeping Secrets.' (Good background primer for the group dynamic.) For those interested in seeing Indira 'Indy' Daimonji check out the episode entitled 'Spider-man Dis-abled.' (It's got Silver Sable as well, but I made her, uh, less 'manly' in my story. LOL. I like my Sable sexy and dangerous.)

Now comes the interesting stuff...will the revelation of Spiderman's true identity split the long-time friendship of Peter, Harry and Mj apart?

Many thanks to all my faithful readers and reviewers! Your words of encouragement push me onward!

Special thanks to those who left me notes in the last chapter: WitchbladeHell, fezz-feral, Ravenmore45, Alice Rose Winter, highlander348, Reg Tigger 13, LightningThiefLover and JessiCat113!


	10. Out in the Open

**Unmasking a Superhero: Chapter 10 - Out in the Open**

The tension in the room was so thick, Cheyenne was tempted to bottle a sample.

With a long-suffering sigh, Peter appeared to physically deflate as he closed his eyes, sinking deeper into the covers of his bed.

"Um…" Mj started, but really had no idea what to say.

"This is all Harry's fault, if you wanna know," Cheyenne stated out loud. She'd made herself at home on the navy-blue couch that was facing Parker's hospital bed. "He went right ahead and ripped that mask of yours to shreds; fuck the consequences."

Glaring obstinately at her, Harry leaned heavily against the wall with his arms tightly crossed over his chest as he stood by the bed's right side, the back of his head thudding softly on the hard surface. Mj sat silently in a chair on the opposite side.

"How long was I unconscious?" Peter asked softly, looking straight at Cheyenne.

"You ran a high fever that lasted almost two days...at a temperature that would've killed an average man," she answered. "Between changes in our antidote, bags of fresh B negative blood and Mj's ice packs, we managed to keep you from self-combustin'. Other than that, what you see, is what you got."

"Does anyone else know about me?" Peter inquired, a hard look in his eyes.

Prompted by Harry and Mj's guilt-laden silence, Cheyenne said, "No. Just us three. I made sure of that."

"Oh, no, Indy!" Peter exclaimed suddenly, his face pale. "How is she?"

"She's doing well, Petey, thanks to you getting to her so quickly," Mj said warmly and a bit hesitantly. "Harry and I were planning on finding her ourselves when Dr. Klein overheard our conversation and volunteered to check up on Indy. She had a mild concussion, a few minor burns, scrapes and bruises. Nothing remotely life-threatening. We can all go visit her at Bellevue General soon as you can leave this place."

After another long moment of tension-filled silence, Cheyenne cleared her throat as she stared at the ceiling.

"I'm no social worker but if you want free advice, people, it might be healthier if we all just dump whatever emotional baggage we're carryin' around, here and _now_. That way, we can move on to what's more _important_," Cheyenne suggested with her usual blasé attitude. "Like curin' Peter there." When no one was eager to volunteer, she mentally rolled her eyes and said, "Fine. I'll go first then." She leaned forward, elbows to knees and stared steadily at Peter who gazed back at her warily. "Hmnh. Y'know...I always had a feelin' you were overcompensatin' for somethin'. I was right."

"Hey!" Peter replied indignantly, feeling totally offended.

"Oh, man, yeowch," Harry said, cringing. After a moment of stunned silence, he exploded into a fit of laughter. Soon, Mj joined in and eventually even Peter started to chuckle. "Now, _that's_ what I call an award-winning icebreaker, Yen."

"Another thing, from now on, you can officially count me in as one of the 'good guys' coz of Harry there," Cheyenne said seriously. "I swear on my _life_, Peter Parker, I ain't tellin' a soul about your web-swingin' alter ego. Also, you and I have a verbal contract: I keep you from dyin', you help me decrypt the files I took from Mediadyne. As for your real identity, no one would believe me even if I told 'em. Shit, I can hardly believe it myself." _That a geeky college kid's the slippery Spidey? Fuck, no._

"When I found out that you and Talon were the same person...I couldn't believe it either," Peter confessed, staring at his fidgeting fingers.

"Okay, rewind. Can someone tell me the story from the beginning here?" Harry asked, a bit frustrated knowing that he'd been deliberately kept in the dark about certain aspects of his relationship with Cheyenne. He looked between his girlfriend and his best friend. "So?"

"I met Talon two weeks before the big dinner date with the four of us," Peter began. "I was patrolling Upper Manhattan when I saw someone breaking into one of those expensive, high-rise condos, specifically, a penthouse they rent out to celebrities and filthy-rich socialites. That's when I caught Talon poking around inside the unit. When the alarm sounded, I intercepted her along the side of the building as she came out of a hole she'd neatly cut through the glass."

"FYI, I _tripped_ that alarm on purpose, honey, just for fun," Cheyenne interrupted, crossing her legs and tilting her chin up. "I'm that good."

"Right. Anyway, as I chased after her, I realized how incredibly fast and agile she was," Peter said slowly, staring at her as she looked away. "And quite strong too. More than I would've expected from even a seasoned Olympic athlete."

"One thing at a time, Parker," Cheyenne said cooly. "Let's stick to the subject of me and Harry for now, okay?" When Peter reluctantly nodded, she relaxed into the couch. Harry caught the exchange and his brow furrowed.

"During the chase, I managed to tear off the eyepiece Talon wore with a strand of webbing...and that's when I saw her face," Peter continued.

"But I got my eye-gear right back, of course. Even got away from Spandex there."

"How'd you manage to do _that_?" Harry asked, amazed.

"Easy. I play dirty," Cheyenne replied with a smile. "We ran through construction and I used a laser to cut down this metal beam that was danglin' from a crane."

"Which might've killed someone if I wasn't there to catch it," Peter said crossly.

"Oh, hey, no worries. I knew you'd save the day. It's what heroes do," Cheyenne said smugly.

"Peter's right," Mj said quietly. "You could've killed someone with that stunt."

"Nobody died, girl. Relax," Cheyenne said reassuringly. Harry looked impressed.

"Seems Yen made one helluva first impression on you like she did to me," he remarked proudly as he neared the couch. "I was getting ready to bungee jump from the top of Empire Bay Bridge like I always do every Wednesday morning. Usually, I just end up standing there...soaking in the absolute joy of being so high above city...feeling..._free_." He stopped near Cheyenne who remained seated and they looked intently at each other. "All of a sudden, I hear a woman's voice telling me..."

"'Line's formin', buddy. Are you waitin' for a message from the mothership or are you gonna jump?'" Cheyenne recalled with a grin. "At the time, I had no idea what he was doin' just standin' there with his arms out, starin' at the sky. Didn't mean to barge through your bliss there, baby."

"I'm glad you _did_," Harry countered, partly in awe. "When I turned around, she was standing against the morning sun and...wow...'radiant' doesn't even begin to describe what I saw."

"Damn, Harry. You sure know how to make a girl blush," Cheyenne beamed as they cuddled together on the coach.

"I was so mesmerized by my vision of her, I couldn't move," Harry mentioned with a bright smile. "I watched her jump and just stood there like a complete dumbass...until she said the most romantic thing..."

"'If you need some inspiration, I'm gettin' naked down here,'" Cheyenne said softly and shared a loving kiss with Osborn beside her.

"He finds those words 'romantic'?" Peter whispered doubtfully.

"This is Harry, remember?" Mj whispered back with a grin. She'd left her chair by Peter's side and was leaning against the rail of his hospital bed.

"That's when I _knew_...this girl was _different_," Harry stated with emotion.

"I felt the same way about you...I just...I didn't want to admit it," Cheyenne revealed with a sigh.

"Is that why you dumped me over the phone? You panicked?" Harry asked curiously.

Cheyenne's head whipped pointedly at Peter who squirmed uncomfortably.

"Uh...no...that part's mostly my fault," he replied quickly, prompted by the glare he received.

"You...you _made_ Cheyenne break up with me?" Harry spoke with rising anger, jumping to conclusions. He nearly stood to his feet but the firm grip to his arm held him in place.

"Settle down, baby, I got this one," she said and left the couch, walking purposely toward Peter's bed till she stood beside him. She'd long since changed out of her Talon costume and into a red leather miniskirt with a cream-colored bustier and red, knee-high boots.

"I'm sorry..." Peter said, staring steadily at the calm but unpredictable woman. "Because of what I did that night..."

"Hold that thought," Cheyenne said, narrowing her eyes briefly. Grinning fiendishly, she cocked her arm back and gave Parker a good right hook that connected with his jaw. Mj yelped in surprise. "Don't worry, honey, I just gave your boy there a love tap. Apology accepted."

"...Ow..." Peter muttered, gingerly moving and rubbing his sore jaw. "That's gonna leave a bruise."

"Yen! The hell'd you do _that_ for?" Harry said out loud, sprinting toward her.

The force of her punch should have broken Peter's jaw, but even in his weakened state, he possessed Spiderman's resilience so she had no worries.

"Parker owes me one for _this,_" Cheyenne said.

By 'this' she meant the ugly looking scar across her left thigh that she presented to them by sliding down the nude-colored, patterned stocking that covered it. "You _do_ remember what went down that night, right?"

Peter looked sheepish, nervously scratching the back of his head. True to form, Harry's jealousy flared as he neared the bed, moving in front of Cheyenne.

"Hold on here," Osborn spoke up, a dangerous edge to his voice. "Peter...you haven't been secretly seeing Yen behind my back as Spiderman, have you?"

"Aw, honey-bunny, that's so sweet. You gettin' all jealous for lil ole me?" Cheyenne teased as she sidled beside him, Harry looking at her in confusion. "Keep yer sexy low-rise trunks on, baby, what Peter and I got between us, sure as hell _ain't_ romantic."

"Actually, what Cheyenne's meaning to say is," Peter tried to explain, clearing his throat.

"Nothin' to be all shy about," she interrupted, enjoying seeing Parker sweat. "Y'see, that's why I'm called a 'cat-burglar?' I'm supposed to be _invisible_. You busted me out in the open that night like a kid's toy at Christmas! The fuckin' cops were shootin' at us with .50 caliber bullets!" She paused and took a deep breath to calm down.

"You nearly got her _killed_?" Harry blurted out, leaning forward, tempted to add another bruise to Peter's jaw but Cheyenne placed a firm hand on his arm.

"I'm partly to blame too," she confessed. "I threw flash-bangs. Stupid cops thought I was shootin' at them."

"May I?" Peter asked cordially, looking at his best friend who was currently simmering with both anger and confusion, but being more than patient with the two of them. "Harry, the night you first introduced us to the love of your life here, I was so excited for you; and why wouldn't I be? You finally met someone who makes you happier than I've ever seen you." He knew that Yen was listening to him intently and carefully chose his words. "But when I opened the door...I was so _shocked_ to see who it was on the other side...that I completely froze."

"Because you met her before I did, but as Talon," Harry concluded.

"Yes, and I thought...well…"

"Shame on you, Peter," Cheyenne replied, crossing her arms with a pout. "Like I told you twice before: 'You don't know me, so don't even _think_ you know me.' What I do as Talon has _nothin'_ to do with my life as Cheyenne. Talon's in it for the thrill, the challenge, the danger and - I'm not even gonna lie about it - the occasional prize. I'm a serial kleptomaniac and a hopeless adrenaline junkie, what can I say?"

"Remember the night I brushed you off when you needed me the most to talk about Cheyenne?" Peter said, looking at Harry.

"How could I forget?" Osborn said flatly, still sour about it.

"It's the same night Cheyenne dared me to stop her from stealing this new encryption software from Europe that was being debuted at a local high-end corporate technology expo."

"Wait...was that the tech expo hosted by Hammer Industries?" Harry asked, then saw Peter and Yen nodding simultaneously.

"I was just gonna 'borrow' the software to confirm that it worked," Cheyenne shrugged. "Haven't met a cipher yet that I can't crack...well, until recently, that is. Anyway, we were on the roof of the Hammer buildin' when Spandex and I got busted by patrol choppers...that's when all hell broke loose. We were running from the cops and from each other. Before I knew it, I got shot in the leg and when Spiderman here called out my _real_ _name_..." She crossed her arms and shifted on her feet. "Hell, I just about had a heart attack. Totally freaked me out. I _had_ to leave." She sighed heavily, glancing at Harry. "The next day I called you and broke us up over the phone...my head was so messed up, I couldn't even come up with a worthwhile excuse."

Glancing at Harry, Mj gasped softly when she saw him frowning, his gaze focused on Peter, rage blazing in his eyes.

"So...my girlfriend turns out to be a cat-burglar with an appetite for danger. Big fucking deal," Harry stated, his tone deceptively light but with a definitive undertone of bitter fury. "Has everyone conveniently forgotten that I'm the youngest CEO of OsCorp, one of the world's leading manufacturing companies whose sole source of profit comes from creating weapons of mass destruction? Oh, and while we're on the subject of twisted contradictions, we have _you__..._" He pointed a trembling finger at his so-called best friend, the anger and resentment inside him lashing out. "Shy, awkward, mild-mannered, Peter Parker. Idealistic little boy-scout, geeky college student and science nerd. Strip all that away and what do we get? Nothing but a lying, _murdering_, self-righteous asshole granted freaky, fucked-up superpowers who hides behind a stupid costume, swinging around like a circus monkey and dealing out his own special brand of vigilante justice!" He lowered his voice to a menacing growl. "New York City's almighty Spiderman, huh?" He spat the words in Peter's face. "Wanna know the _real_ tragedy about your situation, Parker? That superhuman claim you have of a higher sense of right from wrong? It's all _bullshit_. I'll bet there's a big part of you that _enjoys_ getting off on all the fighting, the violence...and the demented head-rush that only comes from having the power to crush someone's life out like stomping on a bug."

As Harry inched closer to where Peter lay, Cheyenne braced herself in case he decided to dash forward, clamping his hands around Parker's neck. Meanwhile, Peter looked devastated as he meekly sat still, fully expecting his best friend to try wringing the life out of him. Mj, who stood on the opposite side of the bed, had clamped a hand around her mouth as tears ran freely down her cheeks.

"How did it _feel_, Peter Parker, when you killed my father? Did it feel good? Did you have any fucking regret at all? You carried on like _nothing_ _happened!_ You had the fucking _nerve_ to look me straight in the eyes, joking around, _knowing_ what you _did_?" Harry was shouting but seemed unaware of it. "First, you took my father from me...then you attempted to take away the only woman I've ever felt..." he faltered, his voice cracking. "Why'd you kill my father, Peter? Why?" Reaching out, he grabbed the front of Peter's hospital gown, bunching the material between his tightly clenched fists. Leaning forward, he yelled out the scorching question that he desperately sought an answer to. "Why'd you kill my father, Peter? _WHY?_"

Before Cheyenne moved to separate them, Harry released his hold and began hitting the wall beside Peter's bed, the word 'why' emphasized by every punch.

With every hit, Mj and Peter both jerked in reaction. Cheyenne stood quietly in place with sad eyes as she watched the drama unfolding before her.

"...I..." Peter spoke softly, his voice unsteady, his lower lip trembling. Blinking away an overflow of tears, he balled his fists till they shook. _I'm sorry, Mr. Osborn...I know I promised not to tell him...but he deserves to know the truth...we owe it to him._ Turning his head, he bravely looked into Harry's furious eyes, forcing his mouth to calmly speak the words he'd been wanting to say since the tragic incident. "Had...had there been another way that night...I _swear_ to you, Harry, I would've done everything in my power to save your father...but he was beyond saving..."

"...What...What the fuck are you talking about...'beyond saving?'" Harry said numbly, his knuckles red and sore from pummeling reinforced drywall. He gripped the brackets of Peter's hospital bed as he leaned heavily against them.

"...Harry...your father and the Green Goblin...they were the same person..."

After staring blankly at Peter for a long, tense moment, Harry erupted with distraught laughter. When he'd calmed down enough to say something, he scowled and shook his head in exasperation, throwing the ugly plastic chair beside the hospital bed and watching as it ricocheted off the wall next to the couch with a crash.

"Fuck you, Parker! I'm not listening to another crazy word from that filthy, lying mouth of yours," Harry spat out with contempt. "To hell with you! I'm outta here."

Turning around without looking back, Harry strode out of the room.

"Here," Cheyenne tossed a cellphone on Peter's bed. "Call me on that if you need me. I gotta make sure Harry doesn't go and do anythin' stupid." With a single nod, she was gone.

Eyes puffy and bloodshot, Peter woodenly took the cellphone that landed on his lap and stared hopelessly at it. The devastated expression on his face remained behind and he felt that his features might be permanently etched with remorse. He couldn't bring himself to look at Mj who stood quietly beside him, afraid of the anger and rejection he would find.

His heart ached painfully knowing that by his own hands, he'd _killed_ his best friend's father and no justification in the world would _ever_ sound acceptable.

~"How did it _feel_, Peter Parker, when you killed my father? Did it feel good? Did you have any fucking regret at all? You carried on like _nothing_ _happened!_ You had the fucking _nerve_ to look me straight in the eyes, joking around, _knowing_ what you _did_?"~

The words relentlessly echoed in his head and Peter shut his eyes, his hands curling into white-knuckled fists in response to it.

~"Wanna know the _real_ tragedy about your situation, Parker? That superhuman claim you have of a higher sense of right from wrong? It's all _bullshit_. There's a big part of you that _enjoys_ getting off on all the fighting, the violence...and that demented head-rush that only comes from having the power to crush someone's life out like stomping on a bug."~

Harry Osborn's accusations _hurt_, stabbing him deeply in the chest as he began to doubt his own personal convictions, adding to the ever-increasing weight of guilt on his shoulders that now threatened to crush him.

"Peter…" Mj said softly, worried by his silence.

His gently spoken name was the decisive strike that destroyed the carefully constructed mental fortress Peter Parker had built to contain the emotional consequences of his actions as Spiderman. The unresolved tempest of sorrow, guilt and anger surged through him in a merciless rush.

Mj tightly held the boy she first met in fifth grade as he fell apart in her arms.

* * *

Keeping a safe distance, Cheyenne followed Harry Osborn as he called for a limo that picked him up from the private medical facility's front doors. Whether he knew she was behind him or not, he gave no indication. She then tailed the limo in a metallic-black Porsche 911 Carrera GTS, patiently keeping three car lengths behind as Harry's limo, a fully loaded navy-blue Maybach 62 S, drove around the city for nearly an hour before finally entering the underground parking garage of the OsCorp building.

Using a special access card he'd given to her when they first began dating, Cheyenne was able to follow the limo to a private section of the underground parking garage reserved for Harry's private transportation, high profile guests and OsCorp's Board of Directors.

Slipping her Porsche into an empty 'Visitors' parking space, she watched from the driver's seat as Harry left the limo and leaned against it, retrieving his cell from his back pant pocket. It wasn't a surprise when her own phone started ringing, Harry's number on her call display.

"I know you've been following me since I left the hospital," he began. "I...need some time alone…but I don't mind if you're with me…it's just..."

"We'll talk when you're ready," Cheyenne finished and ended the call.

She left her car and followed Harry into a private elevator as he held her hand till they reached the penthouse floor of his father's former office.

Once inside the renovated suite, Harry headed straight for the office's cleverly concealed liquor cabinet and grabbed the first thing within easy reach, a bottle of Cardenal Mendoza, an imported premium Spanish brandy. He popped the cork and not bothering with a glass, roughly chugged the bottle's contents down his throat like a frat boy at a drinking contest.

Silently, Cheyenne regarded him from where she sat on a soft leather couch in a corner of the office suite. A large rectangular painting hung above her head depicting a replica of Claude Lorrain's, 'The Return of Odysseus' (1644), replacing an enormous portrait of his father that Harry told her had hung there for as long as he could remember.

With the brandy bottle dangling from his fingers, Harry leaned his forehead against the floor-to-ceiling glass panels that served as a dramatic bay window behind his desk.

~"Had...had there been another way that night...I _swear_ to you, Harry, I would've done everything in my power to save your father...but he was beyond saving..."~

Banging the bottom of his left fist on the thick glass repeatedly, he tried hard not to think about the grim conversation that took place not too long ago in a certain room of a private hospital. He'd left the knuckles of his hands untreated and they were badly bruised, slightly torn and covered with dried blood, aching more sharply by the second under the weight of his stress.

~"...Harry...your father and the Green Goblin...they were the same person..."~

_Go fucking straight to hell, Peter Parker!_

With a growl of anger and frustration, Harry hurled the half-empty bottle of premium Spanish brandy at a wall, the handblown artisan glass bursting outward in a shower of sharp fragments and leaving behind a messy spray of deep red liquid.

"You're a _liar_, Peter!" Harry said out loud in contempt, his bitterness and anger focused entirely on his so-called 'best friend' as tears slowly flowed down his cheeks. Grabbing the nearest thing off his desk, a framed picture of him as a boy with his father, he threw it at another wall, yelling, "You're a sick, twisted liar!"

Staying silent, Cheyenne retreated to the fringes of Harry's OscCorp penthouse suite as the wanton destruction escalated inside the refurbished office. Anything Harry could physically touch was flung forcibly in random directions as numerous dents and scrapes scarred the walls. Soon, various objects were scattered on the office's stone floor in haphazard pieces.

Broken and hurting, Harry sank to his knees in a heap, limply accepting the warm comfort of Cheyenne's embrace in a torrent of tears.

* * *

She watched him from a distance as he sat at an outdoor table in an expensive cafe. For a man of nearly fifty years, the man hardly looked a day over thirty-five. Tall to a six-foot, four-inches with salt-and-pepper hair, deep-set blue eyes, rimless glasses and wearing an impeccably tailored suit, Dr. Robert Halton would have easily been mistaken for a Ralph Lauren model on break from a photo shoot.

As first impressions went, the man was handsome, wealthy and the lack of a wedding ring on his left hand meant: available. However, most of the women who ogled him in the immediate area seemed intimidated to even strike up a casual conversation and were content to watch him from a distance, much like she did.

But she knew better.

Smiling slightly, she removed a pair of large, darkly tinted Chanel sunglasses, returning it to its traveling case and into a matching handbag. Not bothering to check her appearance, she confidently strode toward the well-dressed man who hadn't noticed her approach, his eyes glued to whatever he was reading on his mobile phone.

"Hello, Robert," she said softly. It amused her when he appeared startled.

"Adel?" he answered in disbelief, nearly dropping his phone when he stood to his feet.

"I didn't mean to interrupt…"

"Oh, no, no, it's no bother. You're not a bother at all," he fumbled to say, embarrassed by being caught off guard. "Where are my manners, would you like to have a seat?" He began pulling out the chair across from him.

"Unfortunately, I have an appointment in the area, so I can't stay. I was just passing through when I saw you sitting here."

"Well, nevertheless, I'm delighted you found the time to say hello," he replied, still a bit flustered, his eyes roaming over her with appreciation and quietly marveling about how lucky he was to have found such a woman.

"What about you? Are you in town for a while?" she asked, looking curious.

"Me? Oh, yes. I-I'm just here on business. A price negotiation with one of our suppliers," he lied smoothly, not wanting to give away the fact that he was in the area hoping he'd run into _her_.

"Well, I'm short on time, Robert," Adel said. "I'll call you when I get back?"

"I look forward to it," he replied with a bright smile and bent to kiss her hand.

"Till then," she said cordially and walked away without looking back, smugly relishing the looks of envy from some of the women in the cafe. His infatuation of her was obvious and it suited her perfectly as she added a slightly exaggerated sway to her hips before she turned the corner, knowing that the tight fit of her skirt would produce the desired effect.

A ping from her phone prompted Adel to check her personal message board.

'Everything going how you'd hoped?' the text read.

'Better,' was her short reply.

'I think you're starting to enjoy all this,' her texter teased.

'It's the result that concerns me, nothing more,' she typed back.

There was a pause before her texter's parting sentence.

'Don't forget to take your meds - ON TIME. Got that?'

Smiling warmly, Adel fired back: 'I won't. Sorry, I worry you.'

Placing her phone back into her purse, Adel Keele donned her nearly opaque Chanel sunglasses and flagged a cab, her mind filled with thoughts of Dr. Robert Halton in a daydream collage where every image of his handsome face was cold, bloody and lifeless.

* * *

"The little bitch was here, I can feel it," Jia Wong-Cain muttered to herself as she strolled cautiously through an abandoned apartment on the third floor of a run-down building located in the busy, congested district of Bangkok, Thailand. "Take _everything_. Even the most insignificant thing might give us clues to where she might be hiding."

Following her orders without question, several armed men in private security uniforms swarmed the little apartment, bagging everything in sight. The landlords of the old building, a middle-aged couple, were paid handsomely to keep their eyes and ears shut.

Jia Wong-Cain had vowed to devote her entire life to the success of her son, Neil, and to ensure that Tate Industries, one of the world's largest international business conglomerates, passed directly and legally under his control.

_I'm getting closer to her, Katsuro, and this time, you're not around to protect her anymore_, Jia sneered to herself. _Wherever you are, I hope you're watching. I'll make you regret the day you brushed me aside so callously...by killing the only thing in this world of any value to you: your only daughter. Once she's permanently out of our way, my son Neil can take full control of Tate International and be the most powerful man in North America._

Wrinkling her nose in disgust at the dusty apartment's shabby surroundings, Jia's crystal-studded high-heeled red shoes clopped hurriedly out the door and into her air-conditioned black limo, its windows heavily tinted for maximum privacy. She reclined against the soft, cream-colored leather seats, smiling when a tightly muscled, bare-chested young man of Italian descent passed her a cold glass filled with a strong mixture of pineapple mojito.

"I'm in the mood to dance," Jia said spontaneously to the handsome young man seated across from her. "Tell the driver to take us to our hotel. You'll need better clothes for a night out."

Lounging into her seat like a contented lioness after a good hunt, Jia's sparkling red nails rhythmically tapped her glass in time to a favorite tune playing in her head.

* * *

An entire week had past since he'd last spoken to Harry Osborn and Peter found it to be the hardest, most unbearable time in his life. He felt completely wretched and each passing minute made him increasingly anxious and worried.

Was Harry safe? Though he knew Cheyenne was with him, he also knew that if Harry wanted to do something stupid...and harmful...to himself…

No. He shouldn't think that way but he couldn't help it. Despite knowing that Harry hated everything about him right now made no difference. Harry was his best friend and nothing would change that...unless Harry himself made it clear that it was completely over between them.

Wasn't it? Maybe he was just in denial. Hadn't Harry walked out of his hospital room and never looked back?

There was still Mary Jane. She'd stubbornly remained by his side even after his nuclear fallout with Harry. The three of them had been together since fifth grade and this was hard on her too. He was then reminded of a memory...of how he and Mj discovered why Harry had been sneaking out early from class before the last bell at the end of the day. Asking to leave their classrooms with fake passes, he and Mj followed Harry and were surprised to see him enter a limo that was parked almost two blocks away! When they'd confronted him about it, Harry had reluctantly confessed to them that his dad was rich and that he hadn't wanted the other kids at school to know. Harry had wanted to be liked for who he was and not because of how much money he had. Since that day, the three of them had been inseparable.

"He'll never forgive me," Peter rasped softly. When Mj passed him a glass of water he shook his head in refusal.

"I know you're hurting...heck, we all are...but I'm _not_ gonna turn around and walk out that door," Mj said assertively. "Although...I'm sure a large part of you expects me to or even wishes it." She crossed her arms and sighed.

"Harry's right about two things: I'm a liar and a murderer," Peter replied dejectedly.

"Dammit, Peter, _stop_," Mj said in frustration. "Can you give the self-bludgeoning a rest for a minute?"

"All right...and then what? Try to forget any of it ever happened?" he responded angrily.

"Oh, please, stop acting like you have a monopoly on loss," Mj fired back furiously. "Try living with an abusive father and a hopelessly depressed mother! At least you had _two_ parents who…" She inhaled deeply to calm herself from crying, briskly wiping away the tears that pooled in her eyes. "Unless your spider superpowers includes seeing the future, you can't blame yourself for every bad thing that happens. As for Norman Osborn...the guy went insane! That bastard almost killed me and potentially hundreds of other people if you hadn't stopped him." When she saw Peter frowning, she scrubbed at her face, moving to stand near him as he did his best to stare at the ceiling. "Look, I'm not gonna bother sugarcoating any of the crazy stuff you've gone through to make it sound more acceptable than what it is...and a lot of it, I can't even begin to imagine how you must've felt." She paused slightly, trying to organize her thoughts. "Anyway...you don't need a lecture since you've already got the whole self-punishment thing covered."

Unlocking the latch on one of his bed rails, she moved it down and sat beside him, forcing him to look at her by capturing his face in her hands.

"I won't ever judge you, Peter," Mj stated, staring him steadily in the eyes. "I'd like to think that what we have between us...helps us move past this crazy mess." She smiled warmly. "Coz you know what? Somehow, my mind had a definite idea of who Spiderman was...I think a big part of me always knew...that it was you." She leaned in closer, pressing her forehead to his and they stayed motionless for a long, endless moment.

Scooting aside carefully, Peter invited Mj to curl up beside him on his hospital bed and after several minutes of companionable silence, her face lit up with a self-satisfied smile.

"You were totally busted the day you decided to kiss me," she mentioned confidently.

"The omnipotent power of feminine intuition, huh?" Peter said warmly with a lopsided smile.

"Or it could be some kind of biochemical thing," Mj mused out loud. When Peter chuckled, she added, "Hey, you're the scientist, I'm just guessing here."

"Biochemical, huh? With Cheyenne's help, maybe we'll stumble on a definitive formula for Love then patent it and make trillions," Peter joked, trying to mask his melancholia.

"You should sell it as a perfume or cologne and Harry won't hesitate to step in as your super aggressive marketing manager," Mj teased. The grin rapidly vanished from her face when she'd carelessly reminded them of the elephant in the room. "I'm sorry...it's second nature, y'know? The three of us have been together for so long...I..."

"It's okay..." Peter answered softly, squeezing her hand. "The three of us went through a lot together over the years...but this rift between Harry and me...I don't think it's something either of us can hope to fix...at least, not for a long time...maybe never..." Whatever rebuttal Mj had to his statement was left unsaid as a sad silence filled the room.

"Listen, you don't have to bear anything alone anymore, Peter," Mj insisted, leaning her chin on his shoulder. "You've got me...and I think Cheyenne's behind you too."

"Oddly enough, you're right about that," he admitted pensively. "What she feels for Harry, it's been genuine from the start and I was stupid for being blind to it."

"Well, if anyone else can relate to having an alter ego crisis, I guess Cheyenne's the one you can talk to," Mj replied with a shrug, glancing casually at the Swarovski crystal studded cellphone on his lap. "Oh, by the way? You're vibrating."

"Huh?" Peter said in confusion, staring at the phone that jittered down his thigh.

"Aren't you gonna answer that?" Mj remarked, raising a brow.

"Uh, yeah, sure," he said quickly, fumbling with the phone. When he saw who it was on call display, he froze in disbelief. "It's...it's from Harry..."

"Really?" Mj said in shock. She was valiantly optimistic that someday Harry and Peter would eventually forgive each other, but for Harry to initiate any form of conversation _so soon_ was next to impossible! "Maybe it's Cheyenne using his phone?"

Clearing his throat, Peter took a deep breath, forcing himself to sound calm and composed as he answered the call. "Hello?"

"...Peter...it's Harry..." His voice seemed hesitant and apologetic.

"...Harry..." Peter repeated unsteadily. He was nervous and apprehensive, unsure of what to expect. Was Harry intending to formally end their friendship? Was he about to force Mj to choose between them?

Listening in, Mj's eyes were wide and she held her breath in suspense beside him.

"...I, uh..." Harry muttered, cursing softly. "...you..." There was a long pause and a heavy sigh. "Just get your ass outta that hospital ASAP, Parker, you hear me? Something's come up and we need you strong enough to help us sort this out. Yen's coming over to visit you tomorrow afternoon."

Before Peter could reply, the call ended.

"What was _that_ all about?" Mj commented in bewilderment, breaking the silence.

Peter said nothing as he continued to stare at the crystal studded cellphone's small but brightly lit display screen.

* * *

to be continued

* * *

**Correspondence**:

Zaap -

_OMG AWESOME CHAPTER! _

_When I got an email that said you had updated I was so excited! I love this story it has so much character to it! It has to be one of my fav stories on this site! _

_Can't wait to read the next one! _

_From Zaap!_

Dear Zaap -

LOL. Glad you liked chapter nine! :D

Nobody's happier than me when it comes to updating. Believe me, I wish I could churn this stuff out faster, but I work with the time I have and whenever I can lasso my muses into action. xD I'm also flattered that this story is one of your favorites. ^_^

Hope you like chapter ten.

Take care!

...

Tony S -

_Like it!_

_Update soon!_

Dear Tony S -

Short but sweet. ;D

Thank you very much and hope you like the new chapter.

Take care!

* * *

**Author's Note**:

Ouch. Harry was harsh but it was expected. Pent up anger can do that.

Hmm. Now what do you suppose has happened to make Harry call Peter up in such a cryptic way? *mystery jazz music*

My Special Thanks to those who left me notes in the last chapter: Flare1412, Zaap, Trilogy1, a kitsune's light, HaywireEagle, Tony S, and Kyrinea!

To All My Readers: I'm deeply grateful for your continued support and words of encouragement! (=^.^=)


	11. Seriously Out in the Open

**Unmasking a Superhero: Chapter 11 - Seriously Out in the Open**

Cheyenne held Harry Osborn in her arms till he had no tears left to shed.

The couple sat quietly on the heated stone floor of Harry's penthouse office suite which now crowned the OsCorp tower. His head was cradled in her lap, her fingers running through his hair. She spared a glance at their ruined surroundings, the aftermath of Harry's rage leaving very little of the refurbished office intact.

"Looks like I'm gonna have to remodel again," he spoke wryly. He was so exhausted emotionally and physically that his entire body felt like it was made of lead, the slightest movement requiring an almost Herculean effort. "Also, my head's kind of...hijacking your lap here."

"Got nowhere else I'd rather be, honey," Cheyenne replied with a warm smile. "You can park that precious head of yours there all night, if you like."

"As tempting as that offer is..." Harry said, slowly rising to a sitting position on the floor. "...I _do_ have a multibillion dollar company to run."

"Well, look at you, all grown up," she teased and he chuckled in reaction.

"Yeah, well, Harry the Grown-up's always been in here...somewhere...but it hardly gets any mileage," Harry shrugged and stood to his feet. He held out his hand which his lovely companion graciously accepted. "Scratch that. More to the point, I choose to hold that part of me hostage."

"Just like I choose to dance with danger instead of avoidin' it," Cheyenne confessed and crossed her arms. "By the way, now that we're official...that doesn't mean I'm changin' who I am and I don't expect the same from you either. I fell with love with who you are, baggage and all."

"Ditto. I wouldn't dream of changing a thing." Smiling, Harry took her in his arms and did a playful dip, the pair locking lips for a long, impassioned moment.

"Although...I _am_ willin' to put a lid on some of my nastier habits when it comes to bein' Talon," she admitted with a wink.

"How about we take it one day at a time," Harry said with a nod and another kiss. "I'm hell-bent on _keeping_ you so you can bet that I'm gonna do _my_ part."

"Guess we can start by cleanin' up?" Cheyenne suggested.

The couple worked silently for a long while as they gathered up whatever they could salvage from Harry's office.

"Hey, Yen...um...I'm sorry that you had to see...a really ugly side of me," Harry said apologetically and shook his head. "Looks like my runaway temper totally trashed this place."

"Takes a fuck-ton more than throwin' a few things around to scare me off," she replied with a grin. "Besides, if you ever decide to lose your mind, I _can_ spank that skinny ass of yours even on my worst day."

"I should take that as an insult but I'm surprisingly turned on by that statement," Harry growled, laughing when Cheyenne easily dodged his attempts to reach for her.

"Nah-uh. No gettin' in my pants, honey, till we finish sortin' through this crap," she said, waving a finger back-and-forth. "The _last_ thing we need is somethin' important gettin' sucked up inside some dusty vacuum cleaner. I am _not_ goin' dump divin' even for you."

"Fair enough," he chuckled and bent down to pick up a broken picture frame. It held a photograph of him when he was eight years old, candidly posing with his father inside the old office. His mother had taken the picture just a week before her fatal accident. It was probably the only reason why his father had stubbornly kept it on his desk. "I can't believe I wrecked this."

"The picture's still in good shape. Just needs a new frame," Cheyenne said sadly, knowing of the photograph's great sentimental value. When Harry liberated the photo from its broken frame and held it up, she instantly saw something significantly out of place. "Hey...what's that?"

"What's what?" he asked back and turned over the 5x9 picture in his hand to investigate. To his surprise, stuck to the back of the photo paper was the barely discernible outline of a finely thin crystalline rectangle, the shape oddly reminiscent of a laboratory blood slide.

"It's a pre-launch prototype," Cheyenne gushed in awe. "An OsCorp patented original. The only working data chip in existence that stores a hundred exabytes of uncorrupted information." She exchanged a glance with a gawking Harry and shrugged. "Don't ask me how I know that."

"Well, whatever's on this thing was important enough for my dad to hide it where no one..." He paused, his face turning somber. "Where no one but me would think to look," Harry whispered as he stared at the seemingly fragile 2.5 inch long rectangle that he held carefully between his thumb and forefinger. "I'll hazard a guess that since you know what this thing is, you have the equipment we need to extract the data on it?"

"No," she began slowly, her eyes circling the room, "but if your daddy hid that _here_...I'll bet that the tech we need to read whatever's on that thing…" She stood to her feet and ran for her handbag, retrieving her custom cellphone. Quickly accessing an application that functioned as a density detector, she thumbed the initiation sequence and a beam of blue light erupted from one end of her phone.

Harry watched in curious silence as Cheyenne swept the thin, bright beam methodically over every inch of his penthouse office until all movement settled on a section of wood panelling near a corner.

"There you are," she voiced out loud triumphantly as she purposely strode toward that particular spot. Tossing aside her cellphone, she began drumming a small section of the wall with her fingers. "Hear it?"

"There's something under there," he replied in agreement when he heard the hollower, deeper sounds of her tapping. "Hold on a sec."

She watched as Harry jogged around the office's minibar and returned...with a large fire axe.

"I've kept this here for self-defense as a souvenir," Harry said offhandedly. "Remind me to tell you that story sometime," he added before he swung the axe at the wooden panel.

Hidden within the splintered gap, they found a small but heavy 5x5 inch black metal cube.

"What the hell's this?" Harry asked as he passed it into his girlfriend's eager hands.

"Feels like a tiny lockbox," Cheyenne commented as she examined the heavy metal cube. "No physical signs of a lock so that could mean it's DNA activated."

"How?" Harry replied in confusion when the metal cube was returned to him. "I don't even see how this thing's supposed to open."

"Use your imagination, sweetie," she shrugged and crossed her arms. "Your daddy made you so you should know how he thinks."

"I'm gonna let that remark slide, but just this once," Harry warned her. He deeply resented any mention of his father's God Complex _especially_ when - in any way, shape or form - it remotely involved _him_.

Clearly unapologetic, Cheyenne observed patiently as Harry tried several ways to 'open' the black metal cube. Nearly clawing out of her own skin, she willed herself to stand still despite his failed attempts and his mounting frustration. From what she knew of Harry in the time they'd spent together, she'd only volunteer to help him when she was specifically asked to.

"Fuck this thing," Harry spat out. He would give it one more try then hand the stupid cube over to Cheyenne's more experienced intuition. Picking an orientation that he guessed was right-side-up, he positioned his hands, one on top of the other as he held the cube, his fingers splayed wide. He then twisted in opposing directions.

Suddenly, they both heard a sharp click as the box opened itself, dividing evenly in half.

"My dad created a stupid box...for _this_?" Harry said with a furrowed brow as he lifted up an ornately sculpted ivory and crystal chess-piece of a white King.

"Damn, baby, you weren't kiddin' about your daddy's superiority issues," Cheyenne mentioned. "Now, where do you suppose that clue leads us to?"

"Y'know, this piece looks identical to the ones in an antique chess set that my dad kept in his private study. He even proudly claimed that the set was once owned by the first Tsar of Russia, Ivan the Fourth or better known as Ivan the Terrible," Harry explained, toying with the chess-piece in his fingers.

"Except that King your holdin' there's a very well-made forgery," Cheyenne countered with a smirk.

Startled, Harry gaped at her before he blurted out, "My dad wasn't lying?"

"Nope," she grinned. "I've had my eye on your daddy's chess set the second you showed it to me. He had the genuine thing the entire time and put it out on display like the peacock he was. That chess set's a missin' national treasure so I doubt he allowed any Russian acquaintances inside his study." She grabbed the crystal King. "Also...this is the first solid lead we have."

Wasting no time, the pair sped to the Osborn mansion in Cheyenne's Porsche 911 Carrera GTS, her vehicle's police radar actively providing them with alternative routes to avoid being chased down by cops for speeding violations.

With the crystalline data slide tucked safely in his shirt's zip-pocket, Harry and Cheyenne bolted together to the private study of the late Norman Osborn.

Stopping just shy of the threshold, Harry took a deep breath and slid apart the study's heavy Indian rosewood double-doors.

Beside his father's polished ebony desk of rare African exotic wood was the antique Russian chess set on display atop an elegant brass pedestal...and in its proper place on the luxuriously gilded chessboard sat the authentic crystal and ivory White King.

"I don't get it, Yen," Harry said, scratching the back of his head. "Why go to all the trouble of making an elaborate fake?"

"We'll know in a minute," Cheyenne said, her cellphone in hand as she reinitialized the device's density scanner and regretted leaving her Talon goggles back at her condo. "Somethin's interferin' with my scanner. Can't get any accurate data. Well, at least I can say it's not the chessboard, but we're back to good old fashioned eyeballin'."

"What're we looking for?"

"Whatever's out of place," she answered and reached out for the replica King which Harry surrendered without question. She then studied the information gathered on her phone's application of the fake chess-piece they found buried inside the wall of the late Norman Osborn's former penthouse office at OsCorp. "Just as I thought…"

"Care to elaborate?" Harry asked rather impatiently.

"Your daddy was a smart man, I'll give 'im that," Cheyenne smiled warmly. "If he wanted somethin' hidden...and he _did_…" She returned the replica King to Harry. "Go ahead and pull the King's crown off."

"This another one of those DNA activated mechanisms?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yup. Your daddy was also thorough."

"What the hell could he possibly…" Harry trailed off as he tugged apart the replica chess-piece and revealed an unmistakable shape that was morbidly attached to the King's crown like a spine. "It's a key." His dark-blue eyes darted speculatively around his late father's personal study. "Good luck finding the fucking lock."

After a long moment of silence examining the strange key from different angles, Cheyenne said, "Was your daddy a Shakespeare fan?"

"More like the exact opposite, why?"

"Just a hunch," she shrugged cryptically and led them to an area of his late father's first editions book collection. "Good thing I'm an expert at findin' the things that people want hidden." She pointed to the leather spine of King Lear. "Not a first edition but it's a rare one. One of a few exclusively handmade copies. The kind that belongs to the British Royal Family."

The book itself looked out of place as it sat too rigidly on the bookshelf.

"Geez, Yen, you make it sound like my father was a crooked Indiana Jones," Harry chuckled, casually catching the strange key when it was tossed to him.

"Rich, powerful men always want the _best_ of everythin'," Cheyenne said. "Your daddy was no exception." She pointed to the key that Harry held. "I bet the shape of that key fits somewhere on that book."

Upon closer inspection, Harry noted that the filigree design of a golden plant on the book's spine...could possibly serve as an elaborately disguised keyhole.

"Worth a try," Harry remarked with a shrug.

Incredibly, just as Cheyenne had predicted, the golden filigree of the stylized plant gave way as Harry inserted the strange key down to its hilt and into the book's spine.

"Wait for it," she said quickly when nothing happened.

Before Harry could say another word, the entire bookcase vibrated and subtlety moved aside.

"Whoa…!" he exclaimed in disbelief before they both tugged on the heavy bookcase door. He felt like one of the fictional Hardy Boys caught up in a wild goose chase. "This is _crazy_."

"Hate to say it, baby, but…" Cheyenne said slowly, her eyes widening when she saw what was hidden behind the reinforced bookshelf. "...I think your daddy..._was_ crazy…"

At those words, Harry reluctantly looked up, his face instantly turning pale with regret and nausea, his breath hitching in his throat.

Displayed neatly within reach in individually shaped depressions and featured in a bizarre shrine behind the bookcase...was the greenish body armor that belonged to the super-villain: the sinister Green Goblin.

* * *

Silver Sablinova rubbed her tired, Arctic-blue eyes and sat back with a soft thump against her white, high-back recliner. In a pursuit to uncover Neil Cain's agenda, she'd been studying confidential Intel received via encoded data transfer from various trusted sources for the last five hours. Even the ridiculous concentration of caffeine that lingered in her body failed to jolt her with any sort of inspiration.

"Get some sleep, Sab, you're exhausted," Rex Stanton prodded with a slightly worried expression as he stood next to her. Fresh from the shower, his hair and body were still damp, the numerous injuries that crisscrossed his muscled torso were proudly on display like medals.

"Cain is up to something nasty," Silver Sable muttered in annoyance, "and if he was eager and gullible enough to hire those two profiteering eggheads, then it's also something _big_. What's worse, is that he _used_ me to target Spiderman." She pause and frowned. "Just knowing that wisecracking, web-swinging mutant's involved in this mess is enough to tempt me to rip my hair out."

She still hadn't forgotten - or forgiven - her unfortunate run-in with the costumed super-freak, a run-in that had cost her dearly and had nearly gotten her killed.

A ping from her private satellite cellphone jerked her from her funk.

"Tell me you have good news, Berty," Sable sighed when she picked up the call, her top computer hacker at the other end of the line. "You're positive about that?" A long pause. "Interesting." She smiled slightly. "_That_ woman drops in and out of the picture like a stubborn penny." She bit her lip. "No. Last I heard, she passed through New York a few months ago aiming for an experimental decryption program that was peddled at the Hammer Industries Tech Expo. As usual, that annoying man-spider showed up and everything went straight to hell." Her face perked up. "Is that so?" She grinned. "I'll just have to give her a ring then. Excellent work, Berty. Oh, by the way, take a few days off and indulge yourself at CeBIT. I hear they're unveiling swag I'm sure you're _dying_ to get your hands on. Have fun."

"You've been spoiling us lately," Rex remarked with a grunt.

"I can't help it. It's what I do when I'm in a good mood," Sable giggled softly, fluffing her stark white hair and ignoring the thin strap of her filmy negligée as it slid off her right shoulder.

"Our next move?" Rex asked casually, his eyes drifting to the shimmering material that barely covered Sable's breasts.

"At the moment, it isn't mine to make," Sable smiled. She stared seductively at Rex, licking her lips as she sank back into her high-back leather chair, her chest rising with a backward flex of her shoulders.

"I'm thinking business can wait," Rex chuckled, his calloused hands boldly reaching for Sable's breasts, trapping the swollen mounds between his fingers. "You agree?"

"Less talk, more action," she demanded impishly, reaching for the towel wrapped around Rex's waist.

* * *

Cheyenne crooned softly as she sat protectively behind Harry Osborn who, for the second time in 48 hours, fell apart in her arms. He'd curled up into a ball, hugging his legs, his face buried between his knees. Worry creased her brow as she thought of her younger lover's mangled mental and emotional state. Harry's world had been completely torn apart not once but _twice_ now and she wondered if the strain of it had destroyed him beyond repair. Offering what comfort she could, she embraced him as he trembled.

"...Oh, God...Pete..." Harry breathed out, tears still flowing down his cheeks. He was amazed that he still had tears left to shed. "...He...Peter was _right_. He was right...the whole time…"

"I'm so sorry, baby," Cheyenne said softly, her words muffled, her mouth pressed against the side of Harry's neck. He responded to her touch by leaning heavily against her.

"...No..._I'm_ the one who should be sorry…" Harry slurred between his teeth. "I've been totally blind. I've pushed away the only person...and all Peter tried to do...all he ever did..._everything_ he did...was to protect us…" He briskly wiped away the tears from his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. "...and here _I_ am bawling like a fucking baby." He quickly sat up straight and scrambled to his feet. "I'm gonna fix this."

"Harry?" Cheyenne said, looking up at him from where she sat on the floor. He took a few deep breaths to steady himself before he turned around to face her, his hand reaching out to help her up. "Harry…" She was a bit concerned about the true meaning behind the maniacal blaze in his eyes. Was he going to end up like his father?

"I'm gonna tear OsCorp apart with my bare hands if I have to," Harry growled. "I wanna know every dirty little secret my father's kept from me all these years. I'm _done_ with living under that man's fucking shadow!"

"_That_ is the Harry Osborn I fell in love with," Cheyenne grinned widely, her hands on her hips. "How about we work our way up? Start by dismantlin' dear ole daddy's study."

They began by sifting through every book they could find, Cheyenne efficiently sorting them into three piles: one labeled junk, the other were items of considerable value, and the last were things than needed further investigation.

"This would be easier if I had my stuff with me," Cheyenne mentioned.

She was referring to her many gadgets as Talon, just waiting idly at her condo, but she refused to leave Harry on his own because of the fragility of his current emotional state.

"If you're afraid to leave me alone, don't be," Harry reassured her. "Offing myself was never an option even if my insides feel like they've been scooped out with a plastic spoon."

"Let me know the _second_ you find anythin' suspicious?" Cheyenne reminded him when she wrapped her arms tightly around him, almost refusing to let go. "See you in two shakes, honey."

He watched her depart the room, his eyes briefly rooted to a spot where an afterimage of the woman he loved seemed to linger in the air. Cheyenne's sudden return couldn't have come at a more crucial juncture, a time in his life when he needed her the most. She was an incredibly headstrong, independent woman who willingly bound her fate to his.

For the first time, Harry Osborn had a clear path to follow, and he grinned mischievously to himself when he thought about the serious steps he would take to show the woman he loved how truly committed he was to the idea of Them.

* * *

Jia Wong-Cain frowned deeply as she stared at an old photograph that she'd stubbornly kept with her. It was a group photo taken thirty years ago at a symposium for the senior employees of two of the fastest growing business companies: Tate Industries (now formally known as Tate International) and OsCorp (which, at the time, had rapidly gained momentum for its dealings with the military). She was twenty-two when the picture was taken and she was the young executive assistant to the (now long dead) vice president of Tate Industries. Using her advantage of having the vice president as her godfather, at eighteen, she was immediately accepted as a paid intern. She worked hard, however, insuring that her contract was continually renewed. Once she graduated, she was instantly hired to work for Tate Industries; her fiery ambition and determination made her indispensable, and it paved the way to a rare invitation for a junior employee to attend an illustrious and exclusive gathering.

Despite her reluctance, Jia's eyes were compulsively drawn to the handsome face of a Japanese-German man who stood in the center of the photograph beside a twenty-eight year old Norman Osborn, who was then the newly instated CEO of OsCorp by inheritance.

That handsome man, now currently deceased, was the brilliant and renowned Katsuro Tate, and it both annoyed and amazed Jia that her heart still fluttered whenever she saw an image of him, especially in his prime. At thirty-three years old, the Japanese-German business tycoon had cultivated a legendary reputation among his peers for his innovative and creatively aggressive financial tactics. His ideas effectively attracted many wealthy investors and Tate Industries' profit margins expanded to record-breaking proportions. (A record that Katsuro Tate still held and Norman Osborn was the only other man to come a close second, despite his many attempts to beat it.)

Jia gasped when she felt the sharp, stinging pain of her long, manicured nails as they pierced through her skin and drew blood. She had curled her right hand into such a tight fist, she feared the digits were permanently locked in place when she tried to move them.

Katsuro Tate. A man she both hated and loved with equal passion. A man who still continued to defy her long after his death.

_Damn you to hell, Katsuro_, Jia thought bitterly. She'd lost count of how many times she resisted the urge to burn the old photograph to ash, but the image itself held too much history.

Again, Jia's eyes drifted to the old photograph and settled on the face of her late husband, Patrick Hannibal Cain, who stood by Katsuro Tate's right side. Both Cain and Tate came from a small town in Nevada, had been friends since high school; the two bonding over their shared ambition of someday amassing a ridiculously large fortune. They worked their way to New York City, and together, the unstoppable duo created one of the fasted growing corporations the metropolis had ever seen.

It was just a few months before Patrick Cain became the official CEO of his own oil company Black Gold in Texas that she and Tate began dating steadily. She knew Cain had wanted her as well, but Tate was the one she'd chosen.

For two blissful years, she and Katsuro Tate were inseparable as a couple, so it was no surprise that the day he finally proposed to her was the happiest day of her life.

Six months into planning their wedding, Tate had a business trip to Japan where she was to accompany him. Unfortunately, a breakdown in the preliminary meeting of an important Tokyo merger forced Tate to fly there ahead of schedule.

It was at that point in Jia's life when everything fell apart.

Angry, bitter tears filled her eyes when she recalled the memory of her phone call to Japan. Tate had, incredibly, sounded distant and hurried when they conversed. He even implied a parting accusation that she was 'smothering' him.

She chose to ignore their bizarre conversation, believing that Tate was simply under an extraordinary amount of stress. She knew from their close relationship that his work always came first, and she respected that.

What she _hadn't_ expected...was Tate's sudden absence. For nearly six months, Tate played a vicious game of cat-and-mouse, refusing all contact with her - for no reasons she found valid - as he ran Tate Industries from an unknown location through his network of contacts from Japan.

Upset, furious, hurt and lonely, Jia turned to Katsuro Tate's best friend, Patrick Cain for help and support. Cain, just as confused about Tate's unusual behavior, sincerely tried to discover with Jia what had happened to his good friend in Japan. Inevitably, though they began with the best of intentions, all it took for both of them was a moment of weakness. Fueled by her emotional turmoil, Jia began a sexual relationship with her fiancé's best friend. Cain, who still harbored strong feelings of attraction toward her, was more than happy to accept her advances of affection.

By the time Katsuro Tate returned to home soil - much to the relief of his corporate constituents - almost eight months had past. Furious, Jia confronted Tate and demanded answers. Without preamble, Tate dissolved their engagement, declaring that he'd married another woman who was carrying his _child_ while he was in Japan! His cold response stunned Jia silent and she staggered in devastation but willed herself to stay on her feet.

Outside, Cain had been waiting patiently but furiously and stormed into Tate's office when he heard shouting, voicing his own concerns.

Not sparing his best friend or his former fiancé a glance, Tate walked out and that was that.

Weeping uncontrollably at the memory, Jia screeched out her frustration and bitterness, crumpling the photograph she held as she proceeded to demolish her entire bedroom. Alerted to the commotion, her private security entourage was forced to barge in while her personal physician administered a strong sedative to calm her down.

* * *

Nearly a week had past since Harry Osborn had spoken to either Mj or Peter, the only two people in the world closest to him other than Cheyenne. Their days spent apart since his violent, verbal argument with Peter gave Harry the opportunity for quiet introspection. After the shocking, preliminary discovery of the Green Goblin's armor neatly hidden away inside a secret compartment that was integrated into his father's personal study, Harry had come to the grim conclusion that everything Peter had told him or had _tried_ to tell him...was the _truth_. He then realized that his father, Norman Osborn, _wasn't_ the man Harry thought he was. With Cheyenne's help - using her unique experience and equipment as the elite cat-burglar Talon - the days that followed were no less disturbing.

Included with the components of the Green Goblin armor was a mysterious gadget that turned out to be a kind of cypher. The gadget allowed complete access to the information stored on a prototype crystalline data-slide that was attached to the back of the last photograph that Harry's mother had taken before her tragic accident. Ironically, the framed photo had been sitting in plain sight on Harry's penthouse office desk at OsCorp the entire time, and he sat blissfully unaware of the data chip's existence. If it hadn't been for his emotional tantrum, he probably never would have found it.

The crystalline data-slide prototype (official name still undesignated) had the incredible capacity to store nearly a hundred exabytes of uncorrupted data. What bothered Harry was the _nature_ of the information they found.

"It's gonna take us years to sort out this stuff," Harry groused.

"Or it could be done in a matter of weeks...with help from our own scientific genius," Cheyenne hinted, passing Harry her cellphone. "Go ahead. I know you want to."

"Wanting is one thing...but actually doing it," Harry said as he stared at the digital metallic wallpaper on Cheyenne's screen. "What the hell do I say?" He paused. "All those terrible things I said...I can't exactly take them back."

"Heat of the moment, honey, I think Peter knows that," she reassured him.

"I bet he won't even pick up," Harry said sadly.

"He'll pick up," she replied with a smile.

"What if he - "

"You'll never know, honey, unless you try."

Sighing, Harry drew on his corporate persona, pretending that he was about to arrange a business meeting, and dialed Parker's number before he changed his mind. After the sixth ring, his nervous pacing grew more agitated the longer the call went unanswered.

Harry was about to hang up when someone finally picked up.

There was a long pause, followed by soft, "Hello?"

The sound of Peter's unsure and unsteady voice swelled the guilt in Harry's chest that he'd completely forgotten what he'd meant to say!

_Shit. So much for corporate professionalism_, Harry derisively scolded himself. Not knowing what else to do, he settled for a hesitant, "...Peter...it's Harry..."_ A three-hundred-thousand dollar education and that's the best I can do?_ At least his voice sounded heavily apologetic. "...I, uh..." he fumbled and muttered a curse. "...you..." Now what? This was uncharted territory for him. He'd burned a good amount of bridges in his life, but this was one bridge he was desperately trying to rebuild!

He paused, sighing heavily, thumping his brain for something meaningful to say. Should he beg? He deserved to. Peter was a good friend despite his unexplained absences at the weirdest moments. At least, he now knew the main reason behind it. He couldn't even imagine how Peter had juggled the double lifestyle of superhero and college student.

Right now, he needed his best friend back and he'd rather not do a heartfelt apology over the phone. He settled for the only words that popped into his head.

"Just get your ass outta that hospital ASAP, Parker, you hear me? Something's come up and we need you strong enough to help us sort this out. Yen's coming over to visit you tomorrow afternoon," Harry said and hung up.

* * *

She sat still and winced as the nurse changed the dressing on her burned left arm. Luckily, the burns weren't too severe and the frequent application of a specially enriched ointment would help to reduce any scarring. A Dr. Kilian Klein had come to visit her recently, assuring her that she was perfectly healthy and would soon be released.

Looking out the large window near her hospital bed, Indira Daimonji thought about her brush with death. If it hadn't been for Spiderman, she would've been buried, unconscious, under a ton of burning rubble till she suffocated.

In a daze, she glanced at the bandages on her arms and touched the gauze wrapped around her head as tears filled her eyes. There were flowers and cards from her friends and colleagues at Empire One but the entire bunch could have easily been on display at a funeral.

When her cellphone rang, she nearly squealed in fright.

Briskly wiping away the extra moisture on her face, she answered the call.

"Hello?" She hoped her voice wasn't too unsteady.

"Indy? It's Peter."

"Peter! It's so good to hear from you!" It sounded too enthusiastic...not that she wasn't excited to hear from him. "How are you feeling?"

"I was calling to ask _you_ that," he chuckled.

"I'm good," she convinced herself. "You're in worse shape than I am right now, so I've been told."

"Guess we both owe our lives to Spiderman," he said.

"Half the city already owes him a debt of gratitude, I'll tell ya."

"Wish I was on my feet so I could see you…"

"Gonna beat you to that. I think they'll be releasing me soon. I can go see _you_," Indy said with a smile. Caught somewhere between excitement and anxiety, her heart thumped in her chest. "I've missed you," she added softly.

"I've missed you too," he answered back gently, his voice cracking. He wanted so desperately to tell Indy what had happened to him in the last few days...but he knew that he couldn't. It was complicated enough having Harry and Mj - who he'd been with since forever - knowing his secret identity and even _they_ found it very difficult to accept! As for Cheyenne, she found out by pure affiliation. Harry had chosen to tell her even if it _wasn't_ his decision to make.

If he suddenly confessed his secret to Indy…

"Indy…"

It was Peter's turn to sound distraught.

"Hey...hey...it's okay," she said. "Occupational hazard, right? We're intrepid news reporters. It's what we signed up for. If we _wanted_ safe, we would've both gotten desk jobs."

"...yeah…"

"We'll get through this, Peter," she encouraged. "I'll come by to see you the second this hospital spits me out."

"I'd like that," he said, trying to sound cheerful.

"Now, you go get some rest, handsome. I want you strong enough for visitors."

"Gotcha."

"Okay, Peter, I gotta go," Indy said. "My nurse is giving me the evil eye."

"I'll see you soon. Bye for now."

"Bye for now," she repeated softly and the call ended.

Staring at the phone in her hand, Indy began to cry softly as she stared at a happy picture of her and Peter Parker which was set as her phone's home-screen wallpaper.

* * *

With no traffic to dodge at such a late hour of the evening, Cheyenne all but flew to her condo in a posh area of the city in her Porsche 911 Carrera GTS, still worried that Harry might do something psychotic in her absence. Tires screeching loudly in the confined space of her building's underground parking, she drove into her designated spot in a private section, left her car's keys in the ignition and bolted for the penthouse elevator.

Once inside her luxurious living space, she grabbed a large rucksack and stuffed everything of possible use she could think of as she systematically combed through her equipment as Talon. Various instruments, most of them she'd built herself, were tossed into the military pack while an extra change of clothing, toiletries and her spare leather cat-burgler outfit were sealed in a black duffel bag.

Just before she left her condo, she reluctantly decided to check her email and instantly regretted that she did. An important encrypted message stood out from the long list of electronic rubbish and she quickly ran a special decryption program to unscramble it.

Cursing loudly and repeatedly, an unforeseen complication presented itself as Cheyenne read a job offer from none other than the notorious elite mercenary: Silver Sable. She and Silver had some history together and she now lamented leaving an unforgettable impression on the woman.

"Damn it all to hell, this is the _last_ thing I need right now!" she said out loud in frustration, her voice echoing in her spacious, high-ceiling living room.

A few minutes of pacing and mentally arguing with herself, Cheyenne pivoted toward her computer screen.

"Fuck it. The bitch can kiss my ass."

Angrily storming out of her condo with her belongings and equipment in tow, she remotely activated her security system as she rode the penthouse elevator back down to the underground parking garage.

In the silence of her vacated living space, the message from Silver Sable was left on her display screen:

T,

Got an urgent request.

Need you to help me swat a spider.

How's a blank check sound?

Call me.

S.S.

The message was then replaced by Cheyenne's screensaver.

* * *

to be continued

* * *

**Author's Note:**

First of all, my sincerest THANK YOU to all my readers for your reviews and support!

I do apologize for the long update times, but sadly, I can only write when the inspiration grabs me and I _am_ doing my best! ^_^; (excuses, excuses)

I was also hoping for a longer chapter after all this time...*runs for cover*


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